


Can't Change the Prophecy

by Sterek_ed (Thorki_ed)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, BAMF Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, BAMF everyone, BLOOMING FRIENDSHIPS, Blow Jobs, Evil Kate, Fluff and Crack, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Percy Jackson AU, Serious Injuries, WIP, remember to read the archive warnings people, there is dying, this is not entirely a happy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorki_ed/pseuds/Sterek_ed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gods and demigods do not exist. Nope. And neither do satyrs, crazy archers, or broody unclaimed demigods with gorgeous faces...<br/> </p><p>  <i>The Guardian’s life will come down to right or left as you look for the Helm of Darkness...</i></p><p>This is a Percy Jackson AU where the gang runs around and gets in trouble, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DAY ONE: Camp Whatnow?

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I haven't really contributed much, just the "Countdown" Soulmates AU really so please bear with me <3  
> I've got the story all worked out, it's just a matter of writing it all down. We're in for a long ride, folks! I'll be updating as regularly as possible.
> 
> I’m a huge fan of the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus series so I wanted to just borrow the concept of demi-god camps. However, I’ve obviously adjusted a few things to fit the story I wanted to write, so forgive me. As of now I’m borrowing things here and there and not really sticking to the Percy Jackson plot/timeline as much. Unfortunately the characters in PJO/HoO do not make any prominent appearances. This is my constructed PJO AU:  
> \- Only the Greek camp, so I don’t know how Gaea and Romans fit into this yet. If at all.  
> \- All the minor cabins + extra one that I’m aware doesn’t exist in the PJO series  
> \- Being a child of the “Big Three” don’t mean shit here  
> \- I'll try as best as I can to make it accurate - according to the PJO books AND mythology, so you might see me posting tidbits of information here and there :)  
> \- Feedback/Kudos GREATLY appreciated!!! XOXO

“Dad, I’m going to give you one last chance to announce this a prank, and I’ll even award best pranker ever,” Stiles says, confusion and fear in his face.

“Stiles,” his dad sighs heavily. “I’m as serious as can be. I know it didn’t make sense –”

“ _Doesn’t_ make sense –”

"Fine, I know it _doesn’t_ make a whole lot of sense, but just trust me on this one, alright?” His dad says in a defeated voice, his eyes weary and glistening.

Stiles hates one thing more than anything else: seeing his dad in pain. Unfortunately, he’s seen it plenty of times in his life: his dad nursing the whiskey, his dad looking out the window like his mom will came waltzing back any time now, especially on nights his dad didn’t have Claudia, his girlfriend, over.

 

_“Your mom… is a goddess.”_

_“Ummmmmm, Dad, this is getting a little weird, I don’t think I wanna know about Mom in that sense.”_

_“I’m serious, Stiles. I know I told you she left when you were younger… But I never told you why. I’m telling you now.”_

 

And so his dad had begun a very complicated chessboard-explanation.

 

_“Why am I the bishop?” Stiles said in confusion as his dad moved him diagonally on the board to a vacant square. He was looking at the little different coloured post-it notes on the pieces, trying to keep up, but he tried not to think about the fact that his dad had labeled himself a pawn._

_“Because you never think straight,” his dad retorted. “Now stop interrupting.”_

 

So he found himself in the passenger seat of his dad’s cruiser, slightly teary-eyed and mostly terrified. He looked into the forested area, which seemed serene enough, but he could _feel_ something in the air.

“Seriously Dad?” Stiles tried one last time.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I can’t… I can’t go with you.”

They’ve talked about all of this – how his dad isn’t “like him” and how there’s rules and regulations. He doesn’t understand what any of it means – gods and demigods, secret camps, coming of age and monsters. His dad had tried his best to prepare him for this day. Stiles slowly steps out of the car, giving his dad every possible chance to come clean – but he doesn’t. He just sits in the car, gripping the steering wheel with knuckles that slowly turn white.

“Wait, Stiles –”

He turns around to say _I knew it!_ but the look on his dad’s face tells him he’s still wrong.

“Whatever happens… Just be safe. And remember that… Remember that I love you, son.”

The crack in his dad’s voice tugs at something in Stiles’ heart, and he can’t help himself from crying even though he’s willing himself to keep it together. His dad’s motions seemed to slow down: the turning of the key, the slow hum of the engine coming back to life, the sad, small wave and forced smile his dad gives him. The last image he gets of his dad, and it’s blurry.

He stands for an indefinite amount of time, watching the road in case his dad comes back to pick him up, but as the wind begins to pick up, Stiles finally forces himself to turn around and walk toward the heart of the forest like his dad instructed.

It seems like a film, or some surreal online gaming community where he should be battling mythical creatures, and _none_ of it makes sense.

The only thing that assures him is the giant entrance – two, giant pillars with an arch spanning between them, enwrapped with thick vines and small blossoming plants. It sinks in that his dad _isn’t_ pulling a prank, but Stiles gulps hesitantly. There’s an aura of something that Stiles can’t quite place his finger on but the energy comes alive in his skin, making his hairs stand up.

Even though there’s no doorway, the space between the pillars shifts, opens up just like a door, and he squints at the brightness coming through. When he blinks the dots away, there’s a figure in front of him, and his jaw drops open.

“Hi, I’m Scott,” the figure says in a friendly manner and lopsided grin.

Scott, the top-half-human-on-goat-legs. He blinks a little more rapidly, backing way slowly from the… the _creature._

“Whoa, hey,” Scott says, backing up a few feet himself to give Stiles space. “I’m not here to hurt you. You must be the newcomer… and this must be your first time seeing someone… like me.”

Stiles can hear the sadness in Scott’s voice, and he immediately feels bad for offending Scott. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I really thought my dad was joking.”

Scott smiles again, and Stiles can tell he’s the type of guy (creature?) that everyone has to love. “It’s alright. I understand. I’m a satyr, by the way. I’m a… a sort of protector. I’m here to ease you into things, answer some questions, y’know, make sure you’re a little more prepared.”

“Dude. Nothing is going to make me more prepared. This is insane.”

 

\---

 

They walk through the colossal doorway, though Stiles didn’t see the point since the clearing was just as dead on the other side, but as he passed, a warm, tingling sensation seeped into his skin, and a blinding brightness forced his eyes shut. He felt Scott’s hand – which was human, thank god – guiding him slowly as they continued stepping forward. When he opened his eyes, his jaw dropped. He took the sight in with widened eyes – there was a whole secret life concealed by that doorway. There was a rumble of shouting and stomping and squealing and there were kids of all different ages _everywhere._

“Holy shhhhhhhhhhhhh….” Stiles drifted, eyes scanning the entire perimeter as they stood on a bit of vantage point to give him a clear view.

There was an arrangement of cabins towards the right, all of them with the different symbols of gods. Stiles had done a lot of preliminary research when his dad had first brought it up, so he started attaching names to the cabins right away but a chorus of cheering took his attention away. There was a clearing where people had been crowding around in a circle.

“What are they cheering about?”

Scott laughed. “Probably making bets on who wins the sparring tournament. It kind of happens informally every year. There’s strict rules about gambling so they put up whatever they get in their care packages or gamble with their chores. It’s all fun, but nobody’s beaten Derek in the past six years and every time we get a new prospect, people always seem to bet against Derek. It doesn’t work out well for them. They’re probably warming up since the end of summer is just a few weeks away.”

“Sounds like someone I need to watch out for,” Stiles mumbled, watching as some of the campers grumble while others look fairly pleased.

Scott clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about Derek. He mostly keeps to himself unless you challenge him in the ring. He really likes brownies. Come on, I’ll introduce you to a few people.”

Stiles continued to take in all the sights. There were other set-ups like a hug hut with cement flooring and a few anvils and kilns. There was an archery range with several targets set-up and a huge campfire surrounded by dozens of tables under a simple roof.  Stiles was actually really enjoying all of this, letting it sink in, but he still missed his father. Scott’s friends, as it turned out, were very welcoming.

“This is Isaac,” Scott started.

Isaac give a friendly nod before walking over to shake Stiles’ hand. Stiles noticed that Isaac had a warm, lopsided smile and a firm handshake.

“He’s in the Apollo cabin,” Scott added, making sure not to skip anything. “Along with Allison,” he said, his smile widening as she beamed at Stiles. “This is Erica and this is Lydia,” he said, pointing in turn as the girls waved at him with brilliant smiles. “They’re from the Aphrodite cabin.”

 _Aphrodite indeed,_ Stiles thought as he noticed Erica’s very, very skimpy outfit and Lydia’s gorgeous red – er, strawberry blonde hair. Her eyes were large and round, shining, almost. Her lips were beautifully puffy and lip gloss perfectly applied. Stiles swallowed thickly before finally being pulled away by the last of Scott’s friends.

“This is Kira, she’s the only child in Zeus’ cabin and our newest member. And Danny, from Iris’ cabin. Nice shirt, Danny,” he added.

"Thanks, man,” Danny replied, showing off his brightly rainbow-coloured tie-dye shirt. Stiles had to admit, it really suited the guy.

"I’m really hoping you’re a Zeus kid too, that cabin is way too big for just me,” Kira greeted before hugging him. Danny moved in too and pulled them in a three-way hug, which Stiles didn’t mind at all.

“And these are Boyd, from Ares and – ”

“Jackson?!” Stiles erupted.

The rest of the crowd seemed confused but Jackson turned from his conversation with Boyd to look at Stiles.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jackson looked at him incredulously.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Boyd asked.

“We go to school together,” Stiles said dumbly, still looking at Jackson with utter confusion.

"He’s… from the Poseidon cabin,” Scott ended lamely, completely at a loss as he looked back and forth.

Stiles smacked himself in the head lightly. “Are you kidding me? _That’s_ why you’re captain of the swim team?!” he burst out laughing.

Jackson shrugged like _oops-you-caught-me_ before he, and everyone else, joined in the laughter.

Before long they were chatting like they had known each other for ages as the sun began to dim and dinner was finally announced.

 

\---

 

“Everyone, please welcome the newest member of camp Half-Blood, Stiles,” the calm voice spoke. Stiles was fidgeting because the man – horse – um, man-horse.

He couldn’t get over the sleek brown coat that melted seamlessly into the upper body of a man. Deaton was warm in welcoming him but Stiles could tell he was very serious about the camp.

“What cabin!” came a shout from the back, amongst the huge cluster of Aphrodite’s children.

Deaton raised one eyebrow and the boy immediately shrank down again.

“Enjoy dinner,” he finished, giving Stiles a reassuring smile even though Stiles was panicking on the inside.

“Um, sorry, excuse me, Deaton?”

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Am I supposed to know what cabin I belong to?” Stiles panicked, racking his memory for any mention of a cabin in his conversations with his dad.

Deaton smiled again and calmly said, “No, you won’t know what cabin you officially belong to until you’re claimed by your deity parent. Many of the kids do not know until they arrive here and it may take the gods  a few days to claim you. No need to worry Stiles, it happens to everyone.”

“Oh. Okay,” Stiles nodded. He hurried to find Scott to ask him about the situation to find that Scott had saved him a seat at their huge table and had gotten him food as well.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Scott asked immediately, like he knew what Stiles was thinking.

“I just… I have no idea what cabin I belong to,” Stiles said, feeling at an utter loss. He was an outsider, just like how he was at school.

“That’s okay, it takes a while to be claimed sometimes,” Scott offered. “They’re usually arguing about some godly stuff or something.” He wasn’t quite sure himself considering he never had to be claimed in the first place.

Allison nodded in agreement. “I was here for four days before Apollo claimed me,” she said. “I didn’t even know until my step-dad, who, by the way, I totally thought was my real dad, dropped me off.”

It made Stiles feel a little better, but he still like he was going through some existential identity crisis. “My dad told me my mom was a goddess,” he said finally.

“Well that narrows it down at least,” Isaac said helpfully.

“Where do I go in the meantime then?” Stiles asked, looking at Scott pleadingly. He had grown to really like the uneven, but easy smile of Scott.

“Hermes has an acceptance policy, so all the unclaimed kids are welcomed to stay in his cabin until they’re claimed,” Scott answered. “Although they’re usually really…”

“Loud,” Lydia finished, not looking up from buffing her nails.

“Because there’s like, twelve of them in there,” Kira responded. “I’d totally let you bunk with me if the gods weren't so picky about who bunks with them,” she added sadly.

“There’s also the Last Cabin,” Erica suggested.

“Last Cabin?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “Ever since they built the cabins for the minor gods and Hades, they also built a cabin specifically for those who were unclaimed since the Hermes’ cabin was getting a little crowded. Since the rule kind of stated there was no bunking in other people’s cabins, they made a cabin with no link to a deity. People usually hang out with the Hermes kids though since the Last Cabin is a little…”

“Quiet,” Lydia finished again.

"It’s a bit lonely,” Scott agreed.

“What, is it just some desolate, empty cabin?” Stiles asked.

“Not exactly,” Scott said, eyes drifting over to the table next to them. Boyd, Danny and Jackson were having quiet conversation but mostly eating as much as possible, and Derek sat next to them, but just far enough to not be roped into the conversation but concentrated on a book instead.

“I thought you said Derek had been here for six years?” Stiles asked, bewildered.

“He’s been here for nine, actually,” Scott mumbled.

Stiles gaped at his friend. _NINE years!?_

He thought about waiting nine years to be claimed, not imagining what that would even feel like. Kira looked a little saddened by the whole scenario as she nodded.

“So he’s stayed in that cabin with a rotation of new kids for the past nine years?” Stiles asked, glancing over at Derek again. He was still absorbed in his novel, his chewing slow and thoughtful. His scruff was also impossible to miss, making Stiles realize how young everyone else was in comparison. His defined jawline moved slowly with every chew as his eyes flicked back and forth until he reached the bottom of the page.

“How old is he?” Stiles asked.

“Twenty-three,” Lydia chimed in, this time not batting an eyelash as she re-applied her eyeliner.

“Lydia knows everything,” Allison offered as Stiles looked at her in awe.

As the campers slowly retreated to their cabins, Stiles felt an impending sense of doom as he eyed the Last Cabin before he debated bunking with the Hermes kids. But as he saw the peeling brown paint of the Hermes cabins and twin counselors, Aiden and Ethan who were rowdily shoving one another, he decided against it. Besides, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about Derek.

When he entered the cabin, it was dark except for the moonlight pouring in the windows. It was a simple cabin with light brown paint and green décor. There were three beds lined up on either side of the cabin, with a matching bedside table and a drawer for clothes. They were all identically made, but furthest bed from the door in the back corner had a novel laying on the pillow – which Stiles recognized. He took the middle bed on the opposite side to give Derek plenty of space but not have it feel like he was being avoided and began unpacking. He picked up a photo frame that had two pictures side by side. One was a picture of his graduation – his dad was beaming, arm wrapped around his shoulder as Stiles’ graduation cap sat crookedly on his head. It was the happiest he’d ever seen his dad. The second photo was the family trip they had taken to Florida, and Stiles’ father had brought Claudia with them. His dad had worried about Stiles needing a mother figure, but Stiles adored Claudia. She always smelt heavily of perfume, but Stiles liked that she was always baking and making his father laugh. It always reminded Stiles that his father had someone to look out for him when he wasn’t around, since he had applied for colleges out of California. Stiles smiled fondly at the photos.

Just then, the door creaked open and the footsteps along the wooden floors were soft.  Stiles turned around to see Derek watching him intensely with his wondrous hazel-green eyes that were almost too bright to be a real colour.

“Um, hi,” Stiles offered. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m kind of crashing here.”

Derek shook his head and gave a small shrug. “Beats the Hermes cabin.”

Stiles laughed a bit. Okay, Derek was less intimidating than he thought. He watched curiously as Derek stole the pillow on the bed next to him before and propped it on his own headboard. He casually took off his shirt - _oh my god -_ before picking up the novel and sitting up in bed to read.

“So, Derek, right?” he started cautiously, trying not to stare.

“Yeah?” he responded.

“I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

He looked up from his book, mildly confused. “I know, I was at dinner,” he said slowly.

“Uhhhhhh, right. Yeah,” Stiles settled for, blushing. Derek’s eyes were so hard to read.

“Nervous?” he asked.

Stiles mind went from barely working to chaotic overdrive. As he grasped for words it felt like pedalling a bike that had a broken chain.

“Uh, what? No, why would I be nervous? No, not me,” he stumbled, turning his face away from Derek.

“Generally, campers are nervous on their first day,” Derek said plainly.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiight. Yeah. Okay, so maybe I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.

“The water doesn’t warm in this cabin until past noon and Ethan always gets brownies in his care package while Aidan gets licorice.  Dionysus is the second grumpiest person at this camp. That’s all the important stuff,” Derek said nonchalantly like he’d just given Stiles the 101 on being a demi-god.

“Second? Who’s the first?”

“Me, of course,” Derek states and Stiles could swear his eyes glowed in the moonlight and corner of his mouth turned upward in a smile, but by the time Stiles blinked, Derek had gone back to immersing himself in his novel and Stiles was content to just pass out for the day.


	2. DAY TWO: In and Out

Derek was long gone by the time Stiles woke up. Truth be told he had woken a few times; sometimes he could hear the scratching of branches along the cabin’s roof, sometimes it was the call of several different birds. Sometimes there was no reason at all. Stiles, yawning widely, went to the bathroom to get ready for the day and noticed there was a white bath towel and facecloth neatly folded on the sink. There were identical black towels hanging from the hooks, still damp, so he figured they must have Derek’s. Which meant the guy took cold showers, and Stiles shivered on his behalf. He really didn’t see why the other campers were so weary of Derek; he seemed nice enough. The guy laid out towels for his guests and told them who had the best care packages to steal from.

It was warm but breezy outside, and he took in the surreal surrounding once more – making sure he didn’t hallucinate the previous 24 hours.

“Hey guys,” Stiles said, approaching his friends at the lunch table.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Allison joked.

“You sure you’re not a child of Hypno?” Isaac teased as Jackson snorted.

"Hey, ease up, I’m still new here.” Stiles said jokingly, shoving in between Jackson and Scott. “So, what’s a normal day like here at Camp Half-Godly-Children?”

Most of the table groaned, but Kira smiled like she always did. “Usually we spend a while training. Some of us patrol, but that won’t come until you’ve learned to fight.”

“Learned to fight?” Stiles repeated, letting it sink in. He never really thought of himself as particularly coordinated since he was such a klutz. “Freakin’ awesome,” he decided, beaming at Scott.

Kira nodded. “There’s hand to hand combat, archery, sword-wielding, dagger-wielding, and then there’s chores like clean-up, kitchen duty, litter patrol, forestry, cabin cleaning, blah,blah, blah.” Stiles noticed she tended to talk a lot, but it was pretty adorable when she blushed, realizing she had rambled.

“That’s a lot less awesome, but alright.” 

There were cheers coming from the ring again, and to nobody’s surprise, Derek was in the centre. Stiles noticed a thin layer of sweat on Derek’s skin, which made Stiles think he had been at this for a while. He drank in the golden tone of Derek’s body, lined with muscles that heaved with each pant for breath. There was a triskele tattoo between Derek’s shoulder blades that caught Stiles’ eye, and he wondered if it was a good idea to ask Derek about it later. He noticed the way Derek’s eyes flickered back and forth between the two twins, daring just one of them to make a move. The twins were in sync, though, their actions mirrored each other almost exactly as they inched toward Derek.   

They were quick, too. Stiles almost went to warn Derek but one twin was already at Derek’s back. Derek, however, seemed to notice. He let Aiden – Ethan? – Aidan, grab a shoulder before sidestepping and bringing his arms in to his chest and wrapping them around Aiden. He pivoted on one foot, swinging Aiden around and right into his brother, flinging them both a few feet away. Derek seemed to have never left his place, and Stiles was impressed by how smooth his motions were, like he could detect every move.

“Wow,” Stiles whispered.

“That’s why some people think he’s Ares,” Boyd stated.

“Well I  _definitely_  think he’s a child of Aphrodite, I mean just  _look_ at him,” Erica offers, her voice predatorily. Stiles can see from his front-row seat that she’s eye-molesting him as she bites her lower lip, eyes glued to Derek’s bare back… Not that Stiles blamed her.

“You do realize that if he  _were_ a child of Aphrodite, it would make it  _seriously_ weird for you two to get together right?” Isaac, the Blunt Voice of Reason chimes in.

Erica’s face instantly freezes and then scrunches up in devastation. “Oh  _gods!”_

“Yeah.”

“So how do you feel about him being a possible child of Hephaestus?” she asked instead.

Scott nods his head eagerly. “He’s pretty good with the mechanical stuff.”

“Didn’t he design some of those traps we have protecting the border?” Isaac asks.

“Designed  _and_ helped build,” Lydia corrects.

"He’s also really good in the medical ward, he knows all sorts of medicinal herbs and pastures. He said it’s just knowledge that’s been passed down through his family, which I could bet means his godly parent taught him. Plus I’ve never seen anyone heal faster than he can, so he could also be a child of Apollo,” Allison added.

“He’s not bad with a bow and arrow,” Isaac says thoughtfully as he chewed on some bread. “But hand-to-hand is definitely his thing.”

“Do you see how good he is with Malia though?” Scott joins. “Every time he’s on forestry duty, it’s like the whole forest falls in love with him. And Malia’s home is something she’s very particular about.”

“You are not seriously suggesting that super muscular, dark and broody Derek is a child of Demeter, are you?” Erica scoffs. “What are you going to suggest next, Iris?”

“Just sayin’,” Scott shrugs. “Didn’t that wood nymph fall in love with him or something?”

The rest of the table made a face, which was good enough indication that he didn’t know the story behind that.

So, he was left to take in all of his friends’ points and wonder about the mystery that was Derek Hale. He let himself be dragged around by Scott to each station to test what his secret hidden godly powers maybe for the rest of the day

At nightfall, Stiles discovered two things: he bruised easily and he sucked at everything godly.

He winced as he rubbed his aching body, noticing that Derek wasn’t in for the night yet. Seriously, how did that guy sleep so late and get up so early without looking like a zombie?

Stiles was too riled up from today to sleep, so he stayed up thinking about all that he had learned in the past few hours. He hadn’t managed to hit any of his marks in archery and any of the swords seemed to throw him off balance when he swung. His first lesson in the armory nearly took off his eyebrows  _and_ thumb. But, he had exceeded in mixing potions and medicines with Lydia and Deaton today. Still, that was an Apollo trait and he knew his godly parent had to be his mother.

He looked over at the door opening, letting the moonlight spill into their cabin. He nodded at Derek, who took one look to see how Stiles had fared.

“Rough day?” he asked, twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"You have no idea,” Stiles grumbled. “I ache  _literally_ everywhere.”

"Cold bath will help relieve the aches, if you don’t mind freezing your ass off,” Derek suggested. “Helps reduce inflammation, and swelling of your muscles.” Stiles nodded his thanks, rethinking the Apollo theory, and went to make a move for the bathroom, his muscles crying out for relief.

As he filled the tub, he slipped in, knowing that the anticipation would be worse if he waited. The rush of the water along his calves was like a heavenly ice massage as he fought to keep from shivering. It was a losing battle really as he heard his teeth began chattering. His skin had almost burned for the first few minutes but as the numbing sensation of the cold began to sweep over his muscles he felt bliss. The pain began to dull; moving away from the feeling of what Stiles imagined throwing himself into a fire to feel like. He closed his eyes to relax and enjoy the wonderful sensation.

The next thing he knew, he was being dunked under water, and his brain jolted him awake – he was going to drown! Before his body could respond, he felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the tub bridal style as he gasped for air. His arms shot out instinctively to grab something as he panicked.

“Relax!” someone growled at him, even though Stiles’ mind was tripping over its own thoughts. He was being wrapped in towels before being carried out of the bathroom and dropped onto an unused bed. Derek retrieved the other towels and began to wrap them all around Stiles, drying some of the excess water on his skin and in his hair.

Stiles was slowly registering what Derek was doing; helping, and not trying to murder him via bathtub drowning. Still, his breathing was erratic and pained, and his limbs seemed to go against his command and continue to swing outward.

“Keep still,” Derek said again, trying to sort the naked, wet, flailing mess that was Stiles with a scowl on his face.

"Panic… Attack,” Stiles managed to wheeze. He shut his eyes and tried to regain control.

Derek’s entire demeanour changed. His face softened as his eyes scanned over Stiles, mumbling under his breathe. His voice was no longer a growl, coming out soft and reassuring. “Focus on me, Stiles, I’m here to help, okay? Just… Tell me if you need anything.”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but it felt like the words were slipping through grates in the floor of his brain. Momentarily forgetting words, his jaw clicked shut before rapidly chattering again.

“Here, let’s get you warm,” Derek said, towelling off Stiles’ hair as quickly as he could. He wiped away the tears from Stiles’ face, though he would later convince Stiles they were water droplets from the bath. When Stiles’ arms were relatively dry, Derek picked him up again and carried him to the next unused bed, beside his own. He maneuvered Stiles under the blankets before grabbing the next set of covers to throw on top. Stiles could feel he was just getting to the peak of his attack, but couldn’t communicate it to Derek.

“You’re still not warming up,” Derek noticed, placing a hand on Stiles’ chest. He shifted into a space beside Stiles, wrapping his strong arms around the shaking boy, his bare skin like a furnace. “Come on Stiles, tell me what to do,” he whispered calmly beside the boy’s ear.

“Story,” Stiles managed. “Tell… something.” He wasn’t going to award himself points for eloquence, but Derek seemed to get the message.

Derek took a deep breathe. “When I first arrived here, there were only ten other kids. They’re all gone by now, off to college or live with their families. I don’t know how I got here, it’s one of the things that’s always been fuzzy to me. I just showed up one day with my sister… Laura. Her name was Laura.”

Stiles noted how calm, and incredibly sad Derek’s voice was. It was unfortunately soothing as Stiles felt his heart calm down. He wondered how much this was hurting Derek to tell his story.

“She and I were unclaimed but Deaton convinced the gods to make an extra cabin for us anyway, because he said we were special for some reason. She was the greatest demigod that ever lived,” he whispered the last part.

“What… What… Happened,” Stiles breathed, though his lungs were starting to function properly again.

Derek hesitated, and Stiles thought maybe he wasn’t ready to share. “She went on a quest… And never made it back.”

Stiles was light-headed and faint, extremely happy to have Derek’s strength behind him. He murmured, “I’m sorry.” He slipped a hand up to wrap around Derek’s arm, turning his head into Derek’s chest. He breathed in the scent of sheer _wilderness_ It smelt like faint scent of his body wash but also oak and sea water like he had been patrolling the camp.

He tilted his head to look up at Derek, who seemed lost in thought. His eyes had a tinge of blue in the green, looking sad and distant. Stiles brought his hand up to cup Derek’s face, feeling the facial hair prickle his fingertips. “Thank you, Derek,” he said genuinely, his voice soft. Ever since this whole adventure began, Stiles had felt like he had been thrown into a world that shook him and threw him upside down, but his mind hadn’t been this clear in a long time. “I’ve never felt this… safe before.”

He tilted his head up further as his hand guided Derek to look down. He saw the amber flecks in Derek’s eyes, could feel Derek’s slow, heavy breath against his nose. Neither of them moved away, and the warmth of   _Derek_ was overwhelming. He licked his lips tentatively before slowly placing a kiss on Derek’s. 

“Stiles…” Derek began.

"I’m sorry,” he began quickly, making a move to escape his towel-blanket-Derek entrapment.

“No, it’s okay,” Derek said calmly, pulling Stiles back down. “I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

There was a pause as they tried to read each other’s minds before Stiles finally gulped and said shakily, “I do.”

He leaned forward again to taste Derek, moaning into Derek’s mouth as a hand came up the back of his neck to pull him in closer.

“Stiles, I don’t even know how young you are, but –“

“I’m eighteen, you’re twenty-three, let’s move on,” Stiles said hastily, desperate for another searing kiss. Derek obliged, caving in to the aching for someone to share even just a moment of intimacy with.

“Wait…”

“Mmm,” Stiles managed while rolling them onto their sides to face each other. He slipped a leg between Derek’s, nudging his thighs apart. He would’ve wondered if Derek was trying to tell him that he didn’t ‘swing for that team’ or was just flat-out not interested, but there was clear evidence that he was.

“I can’t do this,” Derek said, closing his eyes to avoid the look Stiles was sure to give him.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push, I just…”

Derek shook his head, licking his swollen lips and staring at the ceiling. “It’s me, Stiles. I just… It’s been hard for me.”

Stiles nodded his head in slow understanding. “When was the last time you…?” He finished the sentence with vague hand gestures.

“Some Aphrodite girl?”

Stiles made a face. “ _Lydia?!”_ He felt a pang of jealousy, though he couldn’t tell for who.

Derek made the same face in return. “What, no! Lydia bunked with the Hermes kids.”

“So… People who come to the Last Cabin instead of Hermes,” Stiles concluded.

Derek gave a small nod. “Most of them. Look, it’s not you. I’m just staying away from this as much as possible… Every person who walks in that door will _leave_ through that door, I’m not stupid.”

Stiles noticed the same bitterness in his tone and –  _oh my god._ Stiles looked at Derek again, and he  _felt_ it. There was something about Derek that felt so right, like pieces were fitting in place in his brain. The constant buzzing in his brain from his ADHD and panic attacks had dimmed when they arrived at camp, but when he was around Derek, his brain was  _quiet._

"Derek, I’m not leaving you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Don’t,” Derek said, closing his eyes. “Don’t tell me that, Stiles…”

It was a desperate attempt, Derek knew, but if that was anything to go by, the desperation of Stiles’ next kiss was something else.

Derek’s resolution was weak, and he knew it. He caved in to the dark ache inside him and let his hands travel over Stiles’ bare spine, pushing the wet towels out of the way and feeling Stiles’ own heat through his skin. They remained content to kiss slowly and passionately, each second of it chipping away at Derek’s hardened shell. They nipped at each other’s lips, tongues tentatively exploring and hands roaming over every each of skin they could reach. Stiles sensually trailed his fingertips down Derek’s spine, feeling the man shiver and his goose bumps forming. He hit Derek’s waistline and trailed along the hem to the front of Derek’s pants. He slowly flicked the button open with one hand as the other dragged the zipper down.

“You can stop me, if you want,” Stiles said weakly.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Derek let slip in a strained voice against Stiles’ lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. With Derek’s assistance, they shucked off the last of Derek’s clothing, shivering as the skin-to-skin contact made them shiver.  There was pause before Derek looked Stiles in his deep brown eyes. The devil and angel had been going insane over their little tug-o’-war in Derek’s mind. He wanted it, wanted to take and take, but he knew he couldn’t give. He couldn’t let Stiles in, and knew that eventually, Stiles would be claimed and he would be just another Aphrodite girl or Hermes boy. Nameless, faded. And Derek would start building his walls again.

The moan from Stiles’ throat brought Derek’s attention back to the present. His hands had held Stiles’ close, entwined around the boy’s waist and neck. Stiles’ was rocking shamelessly, his cock begging for some sort of friction against Derek’s. Derek moved to plant kisses along Stiles’ neck, smelling soap and sweat, nipping at the pale flesh.

“ _Derek._ ”

It was encouragement enough to have Derek to drag his tongue across one of Stiles’ nipples, strong hands gliding across smooth skin, sparing little attention for Stiles’ cock, heavy and leaking. He kissed his way from mole to mole along Stiles’ body, all the way to his hips.

Stiles nearly had a heart attack when Derek’s mouth began at the base of his cock, licking a long, wet stripe up.

“ _Jesus Christ,”_ Stiles mumbled, wriggling his body. His hands wandered, touching Derek anywhere he could, running his fingers through Derek’s thick hair, over Derek’s large biceps.

Derek was working his tongue over Stiles’ cock, twirling and dragging it around the head while taking Stiles deeper as he went.

Stiles’ mind was in overdrive –  _Derek_ was pushing him past the breaking point. He desperately tried to calm his body to prevent a very embarrassing ten-second orgasm but Derek was unrelenting. Stiles gawked at the man’s head bobbing between his legs.  _Holy shit,_ was all Stiles could think as he concentrated on the warmth of Derek’s mouth. He felt Derek’s hands gliding up and down his thigh, over his hips, grabbing at his ass to pull him in closer. Derek’s breath was warm against skin, and he knew he was too close.

“Derek, you have to – wait, just wait,” Stiles groaned as he felt his entire body tense. He could feel his body shuddering as he shot his load. He’d nudged at Derek, but the man remained where he was, hollowing out his cheeks to very slowly suck Stiles dry, which couldn’t be any more of a turn-on. His legs jerked, almost clamping down on Derek’s head.

“Oh my god, I’m –"

He was cut off by the feeling of Derek’s lips on his, salty and swollen. Apology completely forgotten, he kissed Derek back in earnest, Not fully recovered from, what Stiles would definitely, the best orgasm of his entire life, he fumbled around for dominance, trying to roll Derek over onto his back to return the favour.

Derek gave a short laugh at Stiles, squirming and impatient to get on with their deed. He grabbed the pair of slender wrists, and pulled Stiles close. Wrapping his arms around the younger boy, he rolled so they lay on their side facing one another, Stiles arms pinned to Derek’s chest. “Stop squirming.”

“Then let me…” He tried to worm his arms out from their body-cage, but Derek easily held them together impossibly close.

“Slow down, Stiles. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Roman idioms, really? We’re children of Greek gods and that’s what you’re gonna go with?”

Derek sighed slightly, his breath ruffling through Stiles’ short hair. He readjusted himself to get comfortable before closing his eyes.

“What are you –" Derek pulled him in for a chaste kiss before he could finish.

Stiles wiggled a little, earning a sharp inhale from Derek as his thigh rubbed against Derek’s erection.

“I can fix that, y’know, if you just let –”

“Shhh, it’s sleeping time,” Derek grumbled into Stile’s lips after another kiss.

“Are you really gonna just –”

“Sleep.”

“I’m never gonna stop talking,” Stiles happily declared as he stole more kissed from his grumbly bed companion. He slept through the night without a care in the world, branches and birds be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently fixing up chapter three and the rest will come shortly! Let me know what you think/feedback very much appreciated!


	3. DAY THREE: Visit from the Oracle

Stiles had the intention of picking up his training where he left off – really, he did. But he had to find Derek first, to talk about what had happened. What was this supposed to mean for them? He didn’t even know how he should be acting. Was Derek going to ignore his existence? And would that be a sign to reciprocate the gesture? It was really dawning on Stiles how much of a goddamn virgin he was. Jesus. He noticed Scott first though, and decided to catch himself up to speed with this camp-thing since he was totally unsure of the whole Derek-thing.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked Scott once he realized Scott was squinting in concentration. He noticed his friend staring at Deaton, and a young girl with long, dark hair that was slightly unkempt. Her feet were bare and her clothes were tattered, but she was gorgeous nonetheless.

“This… can’t be good,” Scott offered unhelpfully. He turned to look at Stiles before furrowing his eyebrows. “What happened to your face?”

“Uh, nothing,” Stiles lied lamely. He knew his face was irritated, and red from Derek’s stubble, not that he was complaining. At all. Just cursing his paleness and sensitive skin. “The pillow, I think is giving me some problems. Sensitive skin, you know how it is.”

Scott didn’t, of course, but Scott’s a nice person/friend/satyr. “We can ask Deaton for a hypoallergenic pillow for you!”

“Sounds great,” Stiles tried to match Scott’s enthusiasm. It must have worked well enough since Scott focused his attention back on the flustered girl. Stiles knew there was no way they could hear the conversation, but by the way the girl was fidgeting and Deaton’s scowl, it wasn’t pleasant news. He figured he could hold off on telling Scott about his Derek-thing.

“The coyote came to me,” she whispered frantically. “I’m barely keeping her in – I’ve… Ugh,” she stopped, face scrunching in pain as she held her head in one hand.

“Dionysus, the bell, please.”

Just moments later, the kids started running and pouring around the fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked Scott once he spotted the tiny nubs on the satyr’s head.

“The bell means emergency, and that’s Malia... She’s kind of our Oracle.”

“Oracle?” She was stunning with her tan, flawless skin and bright blue eyes, even as she stood with the help of Deaton, groaning in pain.

“It’s coming, it’s coming –”

Stiles couldn’t get over it – he was at a camp full of demi-gods, yes, but still – the girl dropped to her knees, and threw her head back before a clear howl escaped from her lips. It was so loud Stiles had to cover his ears, as did half the other campers, like Derek, who Stiles just spotted. She dropped her palms to the floor and Stiles watched in awe as hair – fur! – started to grow instantly, her hair shortening and face elongating. She let out another painful-sounding howl as she grew a tail and her limbs shortened and broadened, her loose clothing tearing and falling to the floor. In less than a minute, the only identifying feature that remained were her bright sea-blue eyes. There was a hushed whisper among some of the newer students. The coyote began to look around the crowd. Some of the younger, newer kids shuffled nervously. She made her way over to sniff at Boyd, and growled lowly. He remained completely still. She continued slowly around the circled kids sniffing every now and then.

When she stopped at Derek she surprised Stiles by nuzzling against his leg. He slowly lowered himself to look her in the eyes. He reached out to pet her lightly behind her ears. “Hey, Malia, it’s been a while,” he sort-of whispered. She leaned into his touch briefly before continue along. When Derek stood up straight, he noticed Stiles staring at him before quickly looking back to the coyote.

She flicked her head upward as if acknowledging Scott, who was also apparently brave enough to pet Malia. Stiles thought for sure she’d gnaw his leg off but she made a sort of happy noise. When she was finally in front of him, she began to growl and Stiles instantly took a step back before looking at Scott nervously.

“She won’t hurt you,” Scott assured him, which is totally the opposite of what Stiles felt, considering the fact that she was bearing her teeth and her eyes were glowing brighter and brighter. A lower version of Malia’s voice came from the coyote’s mouth in a slow drawl. It sent chills down Stiles’ spine, as did her entrancing, unblinking stare.

 

 _“The Guardian’s life will come down to right or left, as you look for the Helm of Darkness._  
_Two arrows will fly, but only one will land, while beauty and brain will walk hand-in-hand._  
_If all six seek to find the answer, then you must learn forgive nine years of anger  
_ _As danger will follow you, as you come marching back two by two”_

 

With another blood-curdling howl, she began shifting back as Deaton made his way over with a large blanket to cover up. The camp was soon buzzing with a mix of emotions as Deaton began to help the weakened girl back to his office.

“We will talk about this when I get back,” he said sternly to the anxious campers.

As soon as Deaton left, Stiles found Scott peering at him with concern.

“What?” he asked. 

“Malia… Our Oracle… She was talking to you.”

“I – Yeah, I kind of figured with the whole staring me down thing,” Stiles shrugged, though becoming more aware of almost all the campers’ eyes on him. “Uh, I’m taking that it means something big?” he guessed, judging from everyone’s expressions.

“In my six years here, I’ve only seen our Oracle speak one prophecy, Stiles. This is a pretty big deal.”

Suddenly, Lydia and Allison had come to join them. Lydia was so close he could smell the scent of flowers in her hair and came to realize her eyes were very, very green.

“Stiles, this can’t be good,” she said matter-of-factly.

His stomach dropped. “What the –”

“Must involve Apollo,” Isaac chimed in, having joined the conversation.

“What? How is Apollo –”

 “Could also mean something else though,” Scott chimed in.

Stiles’ head was spinning with the comments being through back and forth. His new friends were chatting amongst them, theories and questions being thrown out and taken back in conversation, leaving him behind and clueless. When the rest of the campers started jumping in about _his quest_ and _his life at stake_ his frustration boiled over.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!” he snapped. It was unlike him to grow so irritated with people he hardly knew because he was in fact quite patient.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he rushed, seeing the shock on everyone’s face. The camp was almost dead silent as they stared on. “Look, I haven’t even been here for 48 hours and you’re all talking about my _life_ being at stake like I’m not even here. I just watched a girl turn into a coyote and growl at me and I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing here or what _cabin_ I belong to and you’re all so busy about some stupid _quest_ -”

“Yes, about that,” Deaton’s voice cut in smoothly. Stiles turned around so quickly he almost fell backward.

He was about to apologize but Deaton put up his hand to call for silence. He motioned Stiles beside him and in a sincere voice said to him, “I know this is all very confusing for you Stiles. Perhaps it’s best if I give you a short tutorial.”

Stiles nodded along.

“When the Oracle – the coyote – comes to us, it is only for one purpose, and that is to deliver a prophecy. Prophecies are of the utmost importance and a very rare occurrence. The Oracle possesses those strong enough to contain the immense strength and energy of the Oracle’s powers, for her word is final. These prophecies tell us many things – usually when there is imminent danger. Usually, she delivers these prophecies because destiny has chosen someone, or a group of people are destined to fulfill a quest to save someone of dire importance.”

“What was the last prophecy?”

“That would be to inform us that Hades had overstepped his… _contract_ , insisting he keep Persephone. Surely you remember the five-month winter we had a few years ago.”

Stiles grumbled.  “You mean to tell me this could be something like saving _the world_?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“But she was looking right at me,” Stiles persisted, refusing to believe this was real.

“Yes,” Deaton said in a more concerned tone of voice. “She has spoken, Stiles. You are the one destined to lead this quest, and you must also decipher the prophecy as you see fit to lead your fellow campers on this quest.”

“But I’ve only been here for one full day!” He burst out. Deaton’s face remained calm while the rest of the campers were scuffling around anxiously. He knew what they were thinking as they looked at him - _this newbie is supposed to save the world?_

At that moment Lydia stepped forward and cleared her throat, eyes looking directly into Stiles’. “You can figure this out, Stiles.”

The others – Scott, Isaac, Allison, Kira, Jackson, Boyd, Erica – they all stepped closer to him and encouraged him too. He even caught a glimpse of Derek, peering curiously at him, as if that wasn’t enough to through his thoughts through another spin cycle.

“I… Okay,” he finally said, defeated. Thinking back, he muttered the lines. It was easy enough to remember since the Oracle was apparently a more serious version of Dr. Seuss. He took a minute to recall all the research he had delved into before coming here and pieced together what he knew. He also recalled the bits and pieces of conversation he had heard when Deaton had left them briefly.

“The Guardian’s life will come down to right or left as you look for the Helm of Darkness,” he recited, wheels turning in his head. “I have no idea who this Guardian is but their life is going to be left up to chance as far as I can tell. Left or right? I don’t know. A path we take, maybe?”

He was rapidly losing faith in himself but Scott nodded for him to keep going and nobody seemed to be offering corrections. “The Helm of Darkness is a given one, it’s the helmet that was fashioned for Hades. It’s meant to grant the person wearing it invisibility. I’m guessing someone’s tried to steal it or something if we have to look for it.”

“That’s a good start,” Deaton encouraged.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Two arrows will fly, but only one will land… That must mean Apollo’s children,” Stiles confirmed, looking at the kids of Apollo’s cabin. “But… It also sounds like two of them leave with me and…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He hated this fucking camp.

“No. No way. I’m not just going to pick two people when it sounds like only one of them is coming back, is this some sick twisted trick you play on every new camper?!” He glared at Deaton, who remained stoic, before scanning the crowd. Scott shook his head, sadly and slowly.

“I’ll go,” Isaac volunteered.

“No, Isaac, no –” Stiles started before the tall blonde made his way over to stand beside Stiles.

“I’m coming with you,” Isaac rephrased, offering a small smile. He placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and squeezed gently to reassure the boy.

“Stiles, you have to accept him,” Deaton reminded.

“This is messed up,” Stiles continued to say. Isaac looked at him expectantly before Stiles finally exhaled and mumbled, “Fine.”

“I’ll go too,” Allison chirped. Her smile was wide and genuine, dimples showing.

“What! Allison, you can’t –”

“I can,” she said softly, moving to join Isaac beside Stiles. She waited for his word, but his words died in his throat. He was condemning one of them to death, he knew it. He could barely nod, but apparently it was enough as Allison stepped in line. He looked at his roster – two of the kindest people he had ever met. God, what if _he had to choose which one to die_? He was feeling the panic well up in his throat.

“… While beauty and brain will walk hand-in-hand,” Isaac offered.

Stiles nodded. “The beauty part must refer to a child of Aphrodite,” he concluded, fairly confident. He looked at Lydia. “Lydia, everyone knows you pretty much know everything around here. Maybe the beauty and brain going hand-in-hand is actually a play on words, like I have to bring the package deal?”

Lydia smiled at him, obviously flattered. She wisped her perfectly curled hair over her shoulders. She walked to join the line-up without putting up a fight at all. The knot is Stiles’ stomach began to loosen just the slightest bit.

Just then, there was a fizzling sound and bright red light that seemed to hover above Stiles. He looked up and saw a rounded shape.

“The mark of Athena!” Scott exclaimed, looking at Stiles with excitement.

Stiles felt a small tingle throughout his body but when he looked down, nothing had changed. “Does that mean…?” He looked up hopefully at Deaton.

He nodded. “Yes, you’ve been claimed by Athena, Stiles.”

He guess he should have felt happy or something – but he didn’t. He didn’t feel anything, possibly because every emotion mankind had come up with was currently battling for dominance in his head. Truly, he was glad he had finally been claimed, and he was excited because he always felt like he would have connected to Athena the most and this meant that he could finally learn about whatever powers or gifts he might have. He had a cabin waiting for him, cabinmates – half siblings – to finally relate to. But at the same time, he felt saddened about possibly leaving the Last Cabin. He felt like he was finally through to Derek and Derek’s company was surprisingly comforting and he didn’t want to leave him – he had sworn he wouldn’t. He could see the way Derek tensed and shifted his gaze, probably already trying to block Stiles out like a bad memory, and that hurt. Plus, he felt a sick sense of dread at the prospect of having to go on this quest, to dooming his friends.

It all felt so finalized because the timing couldn’t have been more of an obvious sign.

“Looks like the brain part is referring to you,” Lydia spoke, breaking the silence of the camp.

_Brains. Wisdom. Athena. Beauty and Brains. Hand in Hand._

“Ri… Right. So, um. Beauty and brain will walk hand-in-hand, that’s covered,” Stiles said, trying to get back on track.

“If all six seek to find the answer must mean there are supposed to be six people on this quest,” Stiles guessed. He counted the four of them again before continuing. “… Then you must learn forgive nine years of anger,” he finished. It was obvious that there was only one person at the camp who that could be referring to. His eyes sought out Derek’s and the instant they made eye contact, it was like he was conducting an electric charge through Derek. The older man didn’t make any motion to move, just stared at Stiles blankly.

Hoping for the best, Stiles took a deep breath before finding his voice again. “Derek… Please?” It was all he could manage before it felt like he was choking on the dryness of his throat.

Derek slowly unfolded his arms and took a step forward. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea and the confidence that emanated from him had Stiles holding his breath. Was Derek really agreeing? They didn’t break eye contact until they were almost a foot apart which is when Derek gave a slow nod of his head and went to stand beside Lydia. Stiles couldn’t believe it. Maybe he could talk to Derek, convince him that he wasn’t like the others who left.

“I… I still need one more person,” he realized. His eyes landed on Scott just as Scott looked at him and nodded with enthusiasm, like a child waiting to get picked by the team captain in gym class.

“Scott, would you –”

“Yeah!” Scott practically leaped before joining the other side of Derek.

Stiles looked up at Deaton, not wanting to repeat the last sentence of the prophecy. There was no point in bringing that point up. It seemed Deaton had the same thought.

“Alright everyone, let’s call it a night,” he said in a dismissive tone before turning to the six. “Well, Stiles has more or less chosen you for the quest. It’s a much larger group than normal, so you have to be extra careful. Rely on your instincts and strengths; it will be the difference between life and death. You’ll leave first thing tomorrow after we get some supplies for you.”

The rest of them nodded, taking the mentor’s words into serious consideration as Stiles went numb all over. _This is really happening._

As they went to head back to their own cabins, Stiles piped up. “Um, sorry, one last question. Can I just stay in the Last cabin for the night? I mean, all my stuff is unpacked and if I’m just gonna leave tomorrow morning…”

Deaton nodded understandingly. “Of course. There’s no rule that strictly forces you out of the Last cabin even when you’ve been claimed. Now get some rest, all of you. You’ll need it.”

Stiles didn’t like the sound of that, but he bid everyone goodnight, stumbling over apologies and having them waved off.

Derek hung back and nodded everyone goodnight as well when Stiles was done hugging them all, wiping away his stray tears.

“You can’t control the prophecy, Stiles,” Derek said as if reading his mind after a few seconds of their walking in silence. There was a hint of bitterness, but Stiles dare not question it.

“I still feel like it’s my fault. And now I’ve dragged everyone I care about at this camp down with me,” he replied sadly.

Derek either didn’t catch the ‘ _everyone I care about’_ part or had elected to ignore it.

“Derek, we should talk about things,” Stiles tried, though his yawn distorted his words.

“In the morning, after some rest,” Derek replied in a deciding tone. Stiles was too tired to protest, things seemed calm enough as it was – maybe he had overreacted. The rest of the walk was in silence and with a final goodnight, they turned off their lights and climbed into bed without a word more to each other.

 _“As danger will follow you, as you come marching back two by two”_ sat grudgingly in the back of Stiles’ mind as a constant reminder that if one archer was to fall, that would leave five of them, and they couldn’t march two by two if there was an uneven number. He took deep, shallow breaths, trying not to think about sentencing two of his friends to die as he twisted and turned in his bed.


	4. DAY FOUR: Leaving Camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear god, we're in for a ride. Enjoy this 5,000+ word chapter and please forgive me for the slow updates buuuuuut I'm pretty sure you can see why!  
> I try my very hardest to aim for accuracy so I hope y'all appreciate it! :) Thanks again for the love, support, feedback, kudos and patience!! 
> 
> xo, [](http://www.sterek--smut.tumblr.com>sterek--smut</a>.)

The next morning, he was shaken awake by Derek. He knew what today was – it was the beginning of the journey that would end in death and destruction. And unlike most days, Stiles wasn’t even exaggerating. He didn’t make a move to leave. Maybe if he didn’t leave for the quest, they could just avoid the whole thing.

“Come on Stiles, the prophecy doesn’t change just because you sleep in,” Derek said wearily, as if reading his mind. He hated Derek for that.

He went to speak but his throat felt so dry he just shook his head instead, trying to bury himself further into the blankets. He rolled over into Derek’s warm chest, remembering the small comfort he was offered the night before.

 

_“Stiles, it’s just a dream.”  
_

_“They’re gonna die, Derek. They’re gonna die, and it’s all my fault.”_

_“Come here.”_

 

They shared plenty of chaste kisses to soothe each other since Stiles was an utter mess. It would be Derek’s first time on a quest since his sister’s death, as well. It was a miracle Stiles hadn’t experienced another panic attack, really.

The silence between them was unnerving – he really wanted Derek to say something, _anything,_  but then again, he couldn’t find his words either and he was the one known for his chatting. He studied the way Derek packed his clothes so neatly; folded and then rolled before being placed in his backpack. Everything was calm, strategic, practical. Stiles looked down in his own pack – a bunch of underwear and socks balled up in a corner with his shirts and bottoms laying there, tragically folded. He scattered everything across his bed, trying to determine what would come with him and what wouldn’t. _Only pack what you need,_ Deaton had told them, but it seemed like Stiles needed everything. They still had to make room for their rations and gear. Sighing, Stiles took his teddy bear out in favour of a water bottle and an extra pair of underwear. He also removed his ratty old sweater to take a roll-up windbreaker the camp had given him. Satisfied with the extra space, he turned to Derek, who seemed ready to go, but was sitting to stare at something in his hands.

“Derek?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Derek responded, voice flat.

Stiles peeked over Derek’s shoulder to see a younger version of the man smiling back at him. He was in the centre of the frame with his arms wrapped around two girls, one of them smiling so widely, Stiles could almost feel his cheeks aching just by looking at her. There was a kind-looking woman behind Derek, her hand on his shoulder. Stiles could see some similarities between them – between all of them, and there must have been a dozen of them.

“Your sister?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek gulped, but nodded. “That’s Laura,” he said, pointing to the girl in his left arm, the one smiling like a kid in a candy shop. “That’s one of my younger sisters, Cora. That’s my mother, Talia. She raised us all on her own. My brothers…” He went on to list everyone in the photo, his finger lingering on their faces as if he were trying to feel them in some way.

 _The Hale family_ , Stiles kept thinking. They looked so happy. For Stiles, it had always been just his father, he couldn’t imagine what it was like to live with so many people, to have so many people taken away from him.

He hugged Derek tightly, planting a kiss on his cheek. Derek let him, eyes unwilling to look away from the photo. After shared silence, Derek placed the photo frame back on the bedside table.

“Derek…” Derek knew from Stiles’ tone what the whine was for. Resigned, Derek picked it up again and, with one last longing look, placed it in his backpack. Stiles did the same with his own photographs of his father before they took one last look at the cabin together.

The others had already prepared their packs, waiting with Deaton, who was gathering herbs. “I’ve given you each a supply of Mountain Ash, Kanima poison and Wolfsbane. There’s also lots of Mist since there will be so many of you. I’m trusting you all remember what they do, but in case you don’t, you have Lydia.”

She smiled at the praise, radiating beauty. She looked calm and collected, even her make-up was flawless. Allison and Isaac had their bows and quivers strapped to their backs while Scott was carefully placing most of the supplies in his bag. They each took some, just in case, but since Scott wasn’t carrying too much, he took the rest.

“So, um, like how do I even start?” Stiles asked nervously. He was aware that by now, the rest of the camp was either peering at them through their windows or pretending to need something from across the campus trying to catch the conversation.

“Well, I’d –” Deaton was interrupted by a large, thunderous boom.

The sky flashed blue, which alerted Deaton. He quickly made his way over to the peak of the camp – the doorway. Sure enough, the thudding was coming from the other side, as if monsters were trying to get in.

“Dear god, please tell me we’re protected.”

“I… I don’t understand. We built an intruder alarm... It should have…” Derek was frowning.

The rest of the campers were alert now – some of them in battle gear already, like Boyd.

“What’s happening?” Isaac wondered, voicing Stiles’ concerns.

“I’m afraid if they’ve gotten through our other defences, the Mountain Ash barrier won’t hold for long. Excuse me, I need to get the campers ready.”

“READY?” Stiles nearly exploded. "What can we do to help? Aren’t we supposed to help?” He looked at everyone else, noticing that Isaac and the girls seemed particularly worried.

“ _You_ have a quest to go,” Deaton said, his voice commanding.

“Come on,” Derek said, grabbing his arm to haul him away from the fight.

The Ares and Apollo cabins took the front line along with Kira, whose hands were sparking with power. Boyd was breaking them off into battalions, and the twins readied their cabin with new weapons being distributed by the Hephaestus children.

“Are they going to be okay?” Stiles asked urgently.

“They’ll be fine,” Derek assured them.

“Guys! Over here!”

Jackson was waving wildly at them, urging them to hurry over. “Deaton said you needed a way out of here,” he said, gesturing to the water. “I figure my friends here could help you out.” There were three sea animals whinnying at them like horses, and if Stiles hadn’t seen them with his own eyes, he would have never believed they existed.  They were beautiful, and if Stiles had to describe, he would have said they were horse mermaids.

“Hippocampi… That’s actually really smart, Jackson,” Lydia praised. She took the first step to pet one gently. When the Hippocampus squealed in delight, Lydia swung her leg over, and continued to pet it. Derek followed suit, petting the Hippocampus closest to him. With a playful splash, the Hippocampus nudged closer to Derek, allowing him to slip onto its back gracefully. He held out his hand for Stiles, who quickly accepted that this was his life – and got on the magical creature in front of Derek, whose strong arms came up on either side of him.

It left Scott, Allison and Isaac, both seeming a little unsure of themselves, or where to go.

“Isaac, you should ride with me so we’re spreading our weight out more evenly,” Lydia piped up. “That way, they won’t tire easily.”

“Alright,” Isaac accepted. Not that he ever needed a reason to turn down a daughter of Aphrodite. Like, ever.

Allison noticeably blushed when Lydia threw her a wink but mouthed back ‘thank you’ anyway. Scott was trying to get the Hippocampus to warm up to him so he get nestled in and have Allison sit in front. Jackson had finished giving them all sugar cubes as treats before turning to them.

“Jackson…” Stiles began. He looked at Jackson in a new light – where there was once an arrogant school bully now stood a genuine friend. “Thank you.”

“Good luck guys,” he said in return, before sending the Hippocampi off and joining the fray back at camp.

 

\---

 

“Um, where are we exactly?” Stiles asked.

The Hippocampi had dropped them off in a forested area along the coastline – but what coastline?

“I’m hungry,” Scott complains, but they haven’t been away from camp for more than two hours so Lydia smacks him lightly in the head.

“Go find a tin garbage can then,” she hisses. She leaves him to his sulking as Allison comforts him.

“We can’t be that far from Long Island,” Isaac said, deciding to help Lydia rather than Scott. Stiles liked his prioritizing, nothing against Scott, of course. He pulls out a map.

“You brought a map?” Stiles asked, amazed at how prepared the guy is.

“Uh, I figured it would come in handy?” Isaac says, like he’s questioning himself. There should be none of the questioning. At all.

“Dude, you’re amazing,” Stiles says with a smile, shaking his head in disbelief. He could have kissed Isaac. _A map_. How could he have forgotten something so basic? He’s now more glad than ever for having help on this trip. They all hunch over the map, spread out along the sand.

“I think we’re somewhere here,” Lydia says pointing to the map. _Connecticut._ “We were going pretty fast north and we were probably only travelling for about fifteen to twenty minutes,” she reasons. The rest of them are clueless, so they nod in agreement.

“So where exactly are we going?” Allison asks quietly.

Stiles looks at them, while they looked expectantly at him. “What? I’ve never been on a quest before!” he protests.

“Maybe we can go over the prophecy again?” Scott suggests between mouthfuls of a metal spoon he’d found along the coast. Stiles decides not to comment on the hygiene scares.

“The Guardian’s life will come down to right or left, as you look for Helm of Darkness is the first line, which means our quest comes down to finding that helm,” Stiles concludes.  
“It looks like we’ll have to pay Hades a visit,” Derek supports.

Stiles gulps because he’s heard some pretty nasty things about Hades, and visiting him doesn’t sound like fun.

“Um, how do we get to Hades?” Stiles asked. _Still new, remember_ , he wants to add.

“In some of the books, it mentions an entrance in Hollywood?” Lydia brings up.

“ _California?”_ Stiles asks. He can’t keep the squeak out of his voice, it just sounds too far away. They couldn’t, after all, afford planes or anything at the moment. “That could take… a while.”

“There’s a shorter way,” Derek pipes up. “And it lets out behind the main gates, so it’s more direct to Hades’ palace.”

They all looked at Derek who took a sudden interest to his shoes.

“Lead the way,” Stiles said gently, placing his hand on Derek’s arm in reassurance.

They end up backtracking to get to Central Park, where Derek’s sure the Doors of Orpheus are. “It was created by Orpheus after he lost his wife, Eurydice and tried, unsuccessfully, to get her back from the dead.” Once they made their way to the Southern part of Central Park, Derek stopped in front of a park statue. He leans closer, and brushes the growing bushel out of the way.

“ _Only the sweetest notes may reach my lover’s ears_ ,” Derek reads.

“Of course, it all makes sense now,” Lydia nods as Derek stands straight. “Orpheus was gifted with writing and music, this must be how he forged a path to the Underworld in the first place.”

“So, we’ll have to what, play music to get in?” Isaac looks around. “Uh, none of us brought instruments?”

Stiles’ spirit was dampened for all of four seconds before he perked up again. “Dude, we’re in _Central Park!”_

He takes off, leaving the group stunned. However, it only takes him a few minutes to return, with company. The man was wearing sunglasses, holding onto Stiles arm as the boy led him to the statue.

“My good sir, if you please,” Stiles prompts, fishing for his wallet. He stuffs a ten dollar bill in the blind man’s hands.

“Why thank you,” he says before licking his lips and putting the saxophone to his mouth. The first few notes played and Stiles prayed to whoever was listening for this to work. The blues beat the man was putting out was oddly lifting. The melody was bittersweet, and Stiles was sure that it would work – though if it didn’t, he still got to hear a nifty sax part.

“Stiles, look!” Allison exclaimed, voice full of glee. The ground beneath the statue seemed to open up with minor tremors making their way through their feet and into their bodies. It was absolutely mesmerizing to Stiles that he was actually on a quest, and it was going smoothly. When the ground stopped opening, they looked down to see a staircase, leading them to the underworld.

“Good thinking,” Scott praised, while Lydia nodded eagerly in agreement. The group seemed to be in high spirits.

“Ready or not, Hades, here we come,” Stiles whispered, taking the first step.

 

\---

 

The Underworld, as Stiles learns, is less pleasant than he could have ever imagined. They have to step carefully on the narrow path to get the Hades’ palace, which, of course, is floating on a central rock island. Stiles _knows_ it’s not supposed to be pleasant, but he’s finding that they’re all suffering from various ailments like headaches and flashbacks, and it’s particularly painful to Stiles because he keeps seeing his dad, unsmiling and disappointed. Allison is clinging to Scott’s shirt so tightly, it looks like it might rip off, and Scott’s got his arm around her waist to keep her from crumbling. She keeps muttering something about her aunt and her grandfather, and it seems to Stiles that he’s not the only one with family issues. Isaac, however, collapses at the foot of Hades’ palace.

“No more... No more,” he mumbles, covering his ears. His eyes are wide in terror, arms trembling as he rocks forward. “Stop… Please, stop.”

“Isaac?” Lydia asks tentatively. “Isaac, sweetie?”

“NO MORE! NO HELP!” Isaac screams before scrambling away from them, dangerously close to the edge. He peers over the side, where there’s nothing but an abyss of floating _nothing_.

Nobody wants to make a sudden move in case it sends Isaac over the edge, and Stiles knows everyone’s thinking about the prophecy, where one archer is in danger.

Derek clears his throat suddenly and says, in a smaller than imaginable voice, “Isaac, it’s alright. It’s just us, we’re your friends. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

They all hold their breath as Isaac continues to rock slowly, but the boy doesn’t yell, at least.

“Derek…” Lydia whispered, fear in her wide, bright eyes.

“STOP!” Isaac yells, kicking out one of his legs, not catching anything. He was teetering dangerously to the edge.

“Nobody speak but me,” Derek suddenly said. “It’s throwing him off.” After the group nodded silently, Derek took quiet steps toward the blonde. “Isaac, listen to my voice, nothing else.”

It was clear they were all holding their breaths at this point. Derek was solely getting closer, but it felt like an hour had gone by.

“You’re okay, Isaac. Just concentrate on my voice.” Derek’s closing in before slowly getting to his knees beside Isaac, careful not to touch him. “Let’s talk for a bit, hmm?”

He turned to the rest of the group first. “You guys go on ahead, Isaac and I will catch up.”

“Derek…” Allison says, concern clear in her voice.

“We’ll be fine, promise,” Derek assures. “Just need a few minutes.” He looked to Stiles, who suddenly realized everyone was waiting for his word.

“Uh, yeah… Sure. Um, if you need help, just… holler,” he said lamely. He trusted Derek, how could he not? If Derek was sure about this – and Derek really was the epitome of confident – then he had to go with his gut, and let Derek handle things with Isaac.

Still, as they walked through the oversized entrance, he gave one more glance back at Derek, who seemed 100% calm, talking softly to Isaac.

 

\---

 

Once they stepped inside, Stiles took a minute to admire it all. The walls were high, pillars with intricate, twisting detail. He noticed lots of black and red – how fitting – and took tentative steps forward.

“Can I help you with something?”

Stiles jumped at the voice, spinning around to find himself faces with a tall, slender woman wearing a sleek light brown dress that brought out her auburn hair.

“Hi… Um, my name is Stiles,” he starts. She continued to look intensely at him before he gathered the courage to continue. “I’m… on a quest.”

“Ah, you demigod and your quests,” she says with a bitter tone. “The Olympians and their meddling, always coming down here to accuse Hades of something or other.”

“I thought you didn’t like Hades,” Lydia asked abruptly. The two woman stared each other down, Stiles slowly inching away from their line of fire.

“He is my _husband_ ,” she said with emphasis. “And although we did not come to be under more traditional terms, I will remain loyal to him as he has for me.”

“We’re not here to accuse you, or Hades of anything,” Stiles stepped in quickly as he saw Lydia clench her fists. “We’re actually here to try and help him.”

“And what could a bunch of teenage demi-gods do for the god-king of the Underworld?” she asked, tone curious and cautious.

“The Oracle told us that we need to look for the Helm of Darkness, and we want to return it to Hades,” he said with much more confidence than he was feeling. Persephone studied him for any sign of a lie before reluctantly opening up.

“He will not take to you, nor will he accept your help,” she admitted. “He is a stubborn one, that fool.”

“Can you tell us anything else about the Guardian? The Oracle said his life would come down to _left or right_ as we search for the Helm of Darkness, and to be honest, we’re not really sure where we should start.”

The loud barking of what Stiles could only assume to be overly large dogs shattered the air, followed by the banging of Hades’ doors slamming open.

“Who the Underworld are you lot,” Hades stated more than asked. Hades flicked his wrist, commanding his Hellhounds to stay attentive. He eyed each one carefully before staring at his wife.

“What do they want?” he asked in the same bitter manner.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe it dear, but they’re actually here to help.”

“You don’t say? They must be company of the two mongrels I found outside,” he spat.

Stiles froze – _Derek? Isaac?_ “What did you do with my friends,” he asked through gritted teeth, anger and fear raging inside him.

Both gods looked to Stiles in surprise.

“My dogs were hungry,” Hades said in a flat tone.

“Stiles!” Scott hollered, grabbing his friend by the arm. Stiles hadn’t even been aware of the fact that he had stepped forward.

Hades looked amused. “Were you hoping to fight me, child? Do you think you could have taken on the power of a god?” His eyes glistened red as he sneered at Stiles.

“I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what powers you have, but I _do_ care about my friends, and you’re going to tell me what you did with them or so help me, _Zeus,_ I will never return your Helm of Darkness.”

Hades went through a series of facial expressions before turning to his wife who was unsuccessfully hiding her smirk. Clearly demigods challenging Hades was unheard of and Persephone was enjoying it too much.

Hades whistled, summoning his Hellhounds to his side as they sprung from the shadows. With another flick of his wrist, the doors to the palace opened, and before Stiles could run outside, he saw Derek’s broad figure walking in toward them.

“Derek?” he called out.

Under the lights inside, Stiles could tell he wasn’t harmed, which only mildly relieved him. Isaac, however, was slumped in his arms, head drooping against Derek’s chest as the older man carried him bridal style.

“What happened to Isaac?” Allison asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Derek assured. “He’s exhausted, and the Hellhounds gave him a scare is all.”

Stiles glared at Hades. “You should be _thankful_ we’re helping you after this.”

Hades scoffed. “Thankful? You want me to thank you for _what?_ For breaking into my palace and spinning some convoluted tale for my wife to gain her trust?”

“Whoa, we’re not spinning any tales here – “ Scott intervened.

“We’re just trying to help!” Allison added.

“I’ve had plenty of _help_ from your kind,” Hades said venomously, voice rattling the walls. Hades went stony and quiet, but he was studying Derek, still holding Isaac close. “He will not fare well here,” he finally said, indicating Isaac’s stirring. “The demons of his past haunt him, and they only get louder down here…”

“Then we leave,” Derek said shortly, turning to take the doors.

“Nobody leaves without my permission,” Hades growled, commanding his Hellhounds forward to block Derek’s way.

“I’m not scared of your puppies,” Derek snarled, walking forward regardless. The hounds growled, low in their throat. The only response Derek gave was to hold Isaac tighter before walking ahead, eyes focused solely on the path out. The hounds, for some reason, didn’t attack.

Hades was speechless with anger. His Hellhounds never disobeyed.

Persephone diffused the situation by offering her help. “Let the ill one stay and I will nurture him back to full health. You will travel more quickly and we will send him to you when he is ready.”

“No one stays,” Derek protested, his voice raising.

“Your demons must haunt you as well,” Hades observed, eyes looking Derek again.

“We’re not leaving anyone behind. That’s it,” he said curtly. Stiles recognizes the pain – the pictures they held onto. The last time Derek left his family for school, they weren’t there when he returned.

“He’s right,” Stiles decided. “We go together, we’re stronger in numbers.”

Hades threw his hands up in the air before leaving the room, muttering under his breath. Stiles definitely caught “ungrateful” and “can’t believe” but he’s much more focused on Persephone, who’s toying with the material of her dress between her hands.

“You know something, don’t you?” he whispered to her.

Her golden eyes looked him. “The Helm has been sought after many times, it holds great power, and it has been known to play a part in some of the most important events in history.”

“When was the last time it was use?”

Persephone’s face turned in a sad smile. “Nine years ago, but be aware that it was not Hades who used the power of the Helm.”

“It... What? Who did? We need to find them.”

There was a heavy pause, Persephone’s eyes boring into Stiles with an intense burn.

“Your mother.”

 

\---

 

Persephone had ushered them out of the palace quickly, guiding them to a shortcut just beneath the Hollywood sign. Derek had noticeably been silent, paying attention to only Isaac, who had finally woken, gathering his senses. He lay on a makeshift bed of Derek’s bedding, resting.

“Are you sure he didn’t mention something about this?” Scott asked Stiles.

“No… No he didn’t.”

“What do we do now?” Allison asked.

“I’ve gotta call my dad, I have a feeling he knows more than he’s letting on and maybe he can help me if I ask him about it,” Stiles determined. “Besides, my _mother_ hasn’t exactly been all that chatty with me…” He stopped when he noticed Derek’s shoulders tense. He was hit with an extreme guilt, he hadn’t considered what Derek had just gone through – with Hades, with Stiles, with… everything.

“Shouldn’t we check in on the camp?” Derek asked.

If the air had been thick before, it was suffocating now. In the ‘excitement’ of the past few hours, the Camp had taken a backseat in their mind.  
“Yeah, let’s call them too,” Stiles agreed.

 “No cell reception at camp, we should try to send an Iris message,” Lydia determined. “We can also see if the other Athena kids know about this.” They nodded, breaking apart to do what they could. Allison and Scott started to make camp, Lydia went in search of a water source. Stiles left a message for his dad, followed by another one, and another. He was worried; his father almost always picked up his calls.

“Stiles, grab me some ambrosia,” Derek’s voice came, calm and in control (the complete opposite of what Stiles was feeling). He did what he was told, thankful for the distraction, small as it was.

He watched Derek carefully tilt Isaac’s head, supporting it like you would an infant.

“You’re okay,” Derek said calmly. Isaac accepted the ambrosia and Derek’s comfort. It seemed strangely intimate, and Stiles felt like he was intruding in some way.

“I should go… help them,” he said with a vague gesture to the forested area the rest of their group had wandered into.

“Stay with Isaac,” Derek offered. “You need rest too.”

Stiles felt a warmth in his heart as he watched Derek walk toward the trees. He took his place beside Isaac, wondering what the hell he would’ve done without Derek; he was the one keeping everyone safe, acting like a born leader.

“He’s good, y’know,” Isaac said groggily.

“Hmm?” Stiles eyes quickly snapped back to Isaac’s. “Oh sweet lord, you’re awake! That is…. Awesome. Really, really, awesome. How are you feeling?”

“M’alright, thanks to Derek,” he mumbled. His voice wasn’t as strong as it was, but Isaac’s eyes were bright as the day sky and Stiles took that as a good sign. “Where’d he go?”

“Just collecting some camp supplies, like firewood or something.”

“Knowing Derek, he’ll come back with a whole damn tree.”

Stiles muffled a laugh, though it was good to see Isaac smiling again.

“You wanna talk about what happened?” he asked softly. He’d had his share of panic attacks, but if Isaac reacted that stronger in the Underworld, the guy must have had a serious past.

“Nah, it’s okay, you don’t have to do… that,” Isaac said in a soft voice.

“Hey, no pressure or anything,” Stiles quickly said. He got it. Personal issues were personal and all that. “I, uh, I get a lot of panic attacks. After watching my dad go through losing my mom he slipped into some bad habits. One day he had a stroke, I thought I was going to lose him and… So, yeah, the panic attacks never really stopped. I had one during my second night at camp.”

“Christ… I’m glad your dad’s okay now,” Isaac said. Stiles is really glad he didn’t say _I’m sorry_ or something equally predictable. After a moment’s pause, Isaac asked, “How did you get through it at camp?”

Stiles hears the fear in his voice, like a scrambling panic of ‘ _what if I start having them too’_ and he doesn’t blame the guy. He’d freaked out pretty hard after his first episode. “Honestly, Derek helped me through it. I… Sort of fell asleep in the bathtub and imagined myself drowning.”

Isaac’s eyes grew wide and he went to say something before snapping his jaw tight again.

“It’s okay, you can laugh,” Stiles said with a grin. Isaac didn’t of course, but smiled softly.  
“Derek’s a good person,” Isaac finally said. “He’s always been good, but only a few people get to see it.”

Stiles nodded along even though he wasn’t sure why Isaac was telling him this.

“In the Underworld… I heard my step-father.”

Stiles froze to give Isaac his full attention before licking his dry lips. “Isaac, you don’t have to –”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. Derek and Allison know too, I don’t know why I’m so against telling people, I just –” Isaac cut himself off by swallowing thickly and clenching his fists, screwing his eyes shut, like he was forcing images out of his mind. “My stepfather. He was always yelling at me and my mom, telling me I wasn’t good enough, telling my mother I was an insolent brat. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him.”

“When my mom passed away, things got worse. He used to…He used to... to-”

“Isaac, it’s okay,” Stiles said, grasping at Isaac’s clammy hands.

“He used to lock me up.”

Stiles heart froze, his mind was racing.

“In an old freezer in the basement. And it was so cold, so dark, and being in the Underworld with all that darkness and the wailing…”

“Jesus Isaac… I can’t believe I brought you into that,” Stiles said. He felt like Isaac’s story had plunged an icy dagger into his stomach and twisted. “I’m so sorry, I never meant-”

“You didn’t know, Stiles. I’m a grown-up now, I was just so sure I could handle it. I’m sorry for slowing you guys down.”

“No. No apologies from you.”

He embraced Isaac in his arms, and after a moment’s hesitation, he felt long, gangly arms hug back.

“Derek’s a good person,” Isaac mumbles again, and Stiles can feel the small rumble from Isaac’s body as he speaks. This time, he understands exactly what Isaac is saying. _Derek was there for me. Derek cares._ He saw it from the moment he had spent his first night in the Last Cabin, and he’d seen how fiercely Derek protected Isaac.

Yes, Derek was a good person, and Stiles was more scared than ever.

 

\---

 

Derek did come back, with approximately two branches short of an entire tree and their fire burned strong. They huddled around, and Stiles was acutely aware that Derek sat as close to Isaac as he could without invading the blonde’s personal space. Isaac didn’t seem to mind at all. On Derek’s other side, Stiles sat, eyes watering as he stared into the fire. He had now placed 12 calls to his father, all unanswered. Scott had found different herbs and edible plants for them (Lydia) to nibble on as they shared some of the rations as well. Allison had shot three jackrabbits for them as well, teaching Scott how to help her skin and cook them. Lydia had contacted the camp to speak to Deaton and some of the other Athena kids. It turned out that Athena had been one of the more absent gods in terms of keeping in contact with their children. None of them knew anything about the helm, but they had promised to keep an eye out.

  
“So it looks like your dad is our only shot at this,” Allison said uncertainly.

Stiles nodded. “He’s not answering his cell… I’m getting worried. The station said he hasn’t been into work the last two days either. We live in Beacon Hills, it’s not too far if you guys wanna…”

Isaac nodded and spoke before Stiles could finish his hand gestures. “We’ll make for Beacon Hills.”

  
“First thing tomorrow,” Derek intervened. “We won’t get far without sleep or sunlight.”

  
It was agreed then. They settled into their sleeping bags quietly. Stiles slept dreamlessly, body aching for rest, but there was no such thing as a slumber without nightmares for Stiles.


	5. DAY FIVE (Part I): The Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, please be warned for archive tags and additional tags. There WILL be some heartbreak up ahead, and I really do apologize. The life of a demigod and all that is mythical is hard and painful.
> 
> I'm chopping Day 5 for a quick update; the next part shall be up soon after some editing! <3

His head was throbbing as he blinked his eyes to clear his vision. Spitting the dirt out of his mouth, he tried to get back to his feet. He saw one of the gorgons hurling herself at him and before he could shriek, an arrow came flying over his head, effectively knocking the gorgon backward. Stiles watched her roll away before signalling thanks to Allison, who was nocking another arrow.

It all happened so fast, the ambush. One second they were resting by their fire and the next, Isaac and Scott had been screaming bloody murder.  Scott was kicking and wielding his precious baseball bat while Isaac’s arrows had started flying. Derek’s instincts pulled him awake faster than anything, with Allison following closely behind. Stiles’ heart had been racing so badly that Lydia had to help him through the disorienting wake-up and get him geared before his panic attack had begun.

Now, Stiles was pretty sure he was doing to have one.

It was a crashing of trees and bodies, a cry from somewhere in the distance, Allison's blood-curdling scream piercing the air. There was a sickening snap and Stiles imagined the worst. Half expecting broken bows, he was relieved when he saw that Allison seemed fine, minus the bleeding wound in her arm she was clutching - and her bow, snapped in half lying a few feet away. 

"Allison!" He screamed, trying to reach her. It was no use with his ankle out of commission as she backed herself up against a giant rock at the edge of the forest. 

"Allison!" This time it was Scott, who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His hooves allowed him to trek through this rocky terrain much faster, and in an instant he was tackling the gorgon and the two became a tumbling mess of dark fur and tangled hair. 

"Isaac... Lydia.... Derek?" Each name was heavy as lead, his mouth was parched, lips dry and cracked. He tried to set the pain aside, to focus his senses and make out the noises that were his friends but his body was protesting against anything but rest.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" He heard a softer voice. 

"Lydia? I can't move, fucking hell, what are these things?" He moaned through drooping eyelids. 

"Gorgons. They're nasty, sisters of medusa. They’re extremely tough to kill, too, since blood from the right side of their body can cure any ailment."

"What? Why just the right?"

Lydia rolled her eyes as she helped Stiles to his feet as best as she could and guided them towards a large boulder for cover. "Because blood from the left side will kill the person!" 

 _Left or right_. _**The Guardian’s life will come down to right or left.**_

His eyes snapped open and he was granted a moment of clarity. He peeled himself from Lydia, trying to stand on his own. “Lydia, we need that blood – from both sides.”

Lydia eyed him curiously, but didn’t ask. She either figured it out for herself or trusted Stiles a lot. Their packs had been strewn around everywhere, but Scott’s was nearby and Stiles inched toward it as Lydia readied her daggers. Aphrodite children weren’t the best with heavy swords but the small, lighter daggers were perfectly suited for the ferocity that Lydia had, and she was deadly in battle.

“Get what you need. I’ll tell the others,” she said before racing into the fray.

His body was greedy for the ambrosia as he nibbled on a square. He knew the others would need some after, so he tried not to take too much. The relief was slow and thick in his veins and even though his body was still throbbing, he could stand and see straight, and that was just going to have to do. Grabbing two vials, He remembered that his training hadn’t exactly taken off at Camp, so he was pretty much useless in combat.

Peering around the rock, the chaos was calling to him. He ran in, without a weapon.

Derek had taken a long slash across his chest, and he was straining to hold the gorgon at bay, hands clasped like they were playing a game of Mercy. His impressive strength proved to be equal to the monster's as they each lost and gained ground on each other with Derek kicking and gorgon snapping her jaws occasionally, fangs on display. Isaac had used all his arrows and was parrying with his bow, the other gorgon, lunging back between him and Lydia. Allison and Scott were nowhere to be seen.

He peered down at the fireplace a few steps away and the gears in his head started turning. Reaching down, he plucked a piece of firewood from Derek’s pile and let it slowly catch. When it seemed sufficient, he flung the burning projectile in Derek’s direction, praying to god his aim was on-spot. Derek seemed to be working with him as he lowered his body, anchoring himself to the ground so the gorgon couldn’t move. Her reptilian-like hair shot up as the flames touched, like a ball of furious snakes. She howled, taken off guard as Derek then sprung up, slamming his entire weight into her head chest. She stumbled backward, blindly swatting at her hair as the fire began to slowly catch on.

“Stheno!” she screeched. “Stheno!”

The other gorgon – Stheno – turned around and caught sight of what was happening. Lydia ran, daggers at the ready. Stheno turned just in time to grab Lydia’s wrists with her claw-like hands. Lydia’s eyes widened in terror as she struggled, but to no avail. Isaac and Derek were on her in an instant, each wrenching a hand off Lydia and pulling her back. If there were a few cracks and shrieks, Stiles pretended he couldn’t hear them. Lydia sunk her daggers into either side of the gorgon and Stiles saw his opportunity. He leapt forward, hands shaking as he handed one vial to Lydia. He unscrewed his own vial, finding the steady stream of blood on the right side. His hands trembled, letting some of the blood drip down the side of the vial, and he found Derek’s hand appear one moment later, resting on Stiles’, holding him steady. He exhaled in relief, looking up at Derek with a universe full of ‘thank you’s in his eyes. Derek nodded, like he understood the words that hadn’t been said. 

Then, a jolt pried Derek away from them as the older man howled in pain. The other gorgon had risen, frazzled but no longer aflame. Her eyes were mad with rage. 

“Euryale! Run away!” Stheno called out, struggling out of Isaac’s grasp. Stiles quickly screwed his vial shut and guided Lydia away.

“You keep the left, I’ll keep the right!”

Lydia nodded quickly before unbolting her daggers once more. It proved unnecessary as arrows came flying out of nowhere, landing in Euryale’s shoulders, knees, and back. Derek was forcing her limbs to the point of breaking, but his body could only take so much. As soon as he felt the weight on his back stop resisting and start sagging, he wrenched himself free, twisting around to give her a final kick to the face. One last arrow found a way to her eye.

“Stheno!”

“Euryale!”

With a final hiss, the sisters fled, faster than humanly possible, and just like that, it was over. Stiles felt relief flooding through his system. He turned around to find the source of the arrows, but Allison’s tear-streaked face and trembling body made Stiles freeze all over again.

“Allison?” Lydia’s voice was soft as she stepped cautiously towards Allison, who kept her bow at the ready, eyes darting around the field as if the gorgons would come back.

“Allison… They’re gone,” Lydia tried again, trying to reach her best friend. She laid a gentle hand on Allison’s arm, encouraging her to lower the bow.

Her breathing was deep, fingers now trembling as she slowly lowered her weapon.

“Allison, look at me,” Lydia said calmly. “What’s wrong?” 

Her voice cracked, barely audible. “Scott. He’s… They killed him.” She broke in Lydia’s arms, the blonde trying to soothe her friend. Isaac let out a broken noise – he and Scott had grown close.

Stiles couldn’t move. He had been dreading this moment from the day he heard the damned prophecy but the reality was still escaping him. How could this have happened, and why didn’t he stop it?

“Allison,” he croaked. The guilt he feels is overwhelming, choking him and his eyes are stinging with grief. Scott, the first friend he ever made at camp…. Gone.

Allison’s tears are silent as her body shakes with her sobbing. She leads them to Scott’s body, still and lifeless upon the rocks where he cut off Allison’s attacker.

“What if… What if we use the blood, it can bring him back, right?” Stiles asked desperately.

Lydia, regretfully, is the one to tell him otherwise. “It can cure almost any ailment… But even gorgon’s blood can’t bring back the dead. I’m sorry Stiles.”

Derek’s reaction was tame, he seemed calm to anyone who wasn’t looking for the signs, like Stiles was. He knew Derek felt something – the way his shoulders tensed as he crossed his arms, the way his eyebrows frowned slightly, the way his eyes got seemingly darker. Lydia, for once, was mostly silent, her eyes misty as though she wasn’t quite there, distancing herself away from death.

Isaac leaned closer to Allison to give her a small hug as he carefully picked up Scott’s body. Scott, like a ragdoll, sagged in Isaac’s arms as they carried him to the open field.

“We should see if someone can come get him,” Allison said, answering the question that had been on the tip of everyone’s tongue. “He’d want to be buried at camp, I think,” she followed in a small voice, tears threatening to start again.

Derek added, “Someone should try to get a hold of Melissa as well…”

“I’ll do it,” Isaac volunteered with a heavy heart. The satyress knew Isaac better than most of the other campers, after all.

Lydia led Isaac and Allison to the nearby water to send another Iris message to camp, leaving Derek and Stiles to watch over Scott’s body. The sun had just started to rise, casting hues of orange and red over Scott’s serene face.

“He looks so… peaceful.”

Derek seemed unsure of what to do or what to say. He looked at Stiles patiently, knowing there was more that Stiles wanted to say.

“I really hate this quest thing. Scott was like… The best friend I ever had and I only knew him for all of four days. It was crazy, y’know? But it just… happened. And I’m here, with all of you, because Scott introduced me, he made me feel accepted and comfortable and now Allison and Lydia and Isaac…”  _And you._  

“Nobody blames you for what happened, Stiles,” Derek interrupted before he could finish. He _knew_ what it was like to blame yourself.

“But what if I had chosen anyone else? Anyone but Scott?” Stiles insisted, getting more furious with himself.

“Stiles –”

“I’m serious, Derek! What if I had chosen that mean girl from Ares, Scott would be at camp right now eating all the silver he could get his hands on or –”

“Stiles –”

“ – Or that really bitchy girl from Aphrodite with the black hair who always looks down at everyone –”

“STILES!”

The younger man jumped a little at the ferocity of Derek’s voice.

“Stop,” he said simply. 

“I can’t Derek, I can’t. I’m responsible for his death.”

“So it would be okay for someone else to die, but not Scott?” Derek countered. At Stiles’ silence, he continued on. “The prophecy called for this, we all knew that when we came along with you.”

“Fuck prophecies! I never should have asked any of you to come.”

“Stiles, I know you don’t have experience with these quests, but more often than not, people get hurt, and yes, sometimes people die. We accept that fact when you ask us to come and it’s our choice to accept. Scott died doing what he loved – he was a satyr, a _protector_ by birth. He died to protect the ones he loved, and there’s no better death for a hero than just that.”

“It doesn’t make it right again. This is still all my fault.”

Stiles was drowning, and Derek could see the signs. “Stiles… I’m going to tell you something I haven’t shared with a lot of people.”

The boy blinked in surprise, but nodded slowly.

“When my mother first told me and my sister that we were demigods, we didn’t believe her. My sister caught on a lot more quickly than I did, but I was just a kid… I didn’t know what was real. I was school one day when a substitute teacher… took an interest in me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I really thought I loved her. It turns out that she was a powerful daughter of Aphrodite, she used charmspeak on me and I led her straight to my family.” Derek had tensed and shifted throughout his story, getting more uncomfortable as he went alone. “She set my house on fire one day, not knowing Laura and I had attended summer school. My whole family…”

“Jesus Christ…”

“I’ve blamed myself ever since it happened,” Derek started. “It was then that I realized my mother was right – Laura and I were in danger. We ran from home, not really knowing where to go. My mother always told us to head for New York, but when we got here, we were more afraid than ever. Laura spent a lot of time comforting me, trying to tell me it wasn’t my fault – but how could it not be my fault? I did exactly what she needed for her crazy revenge.”

“Derek, I can’t believe someone would do that. I – That’s insane. Was she ever caught?”

Derek’s stoic face clearly said _‘no’_. Derek took a deep breath, willed his heart to slow down. “She’s still out there.”

Stiles moved closer to Derek, placing a hand on Derek’s bicep. “Your sister’s right, you know. You’re not to blame. Even I know  from readings that charmspeak is one of the most powerful tools a demigod can use.”

“You’re not to blame for anything that happens on this quest either then, Stiles. Prophecies are unchangeable, you can’t dwell on what’s happened.”

Stiles was about to protest when the rest came back.

“Melissa’s on her way with some of the campers to take Scott back to camp,” Lydia stated. They all surrounded their fallen friend.

“He was so brave,” Allison choked. “He saved my life and I… I never even told him how I felt.”

“He knew,” Lydia said. “He knew.” She wrapped her arms around Allison as the brunette cried into her shoulder.

“He loved you,” Isaac said. “He talked about you all the time.” Derek, Lydia and Stiles nodded in agreement – it was plain to anyone who even talked to Scott. It only made Allison cry harder, but she had to know.

They stayed with him until the campers came, grim faces all around. Stiles met Melissa for the first time, her fur coat slightly darker than Scott’s. Even as she wept for her son, she emanated beauty. Stiles, unable to keep the guilt hidden, went up to Melissa and apologized profusely. The satyress pulled Stiles in for a hug after the first set of “ _I’m so so sorry_ ”’s and together, they cried.

“My son wanted to protect everyone around him, he was always so fiercely loyal,” she said. “I always knew this day would come,” she assured Stiles. She turned to Allison then, whose brown eyes were wide with guilt and sorrow.

“Ms. McCall,” Allison said, lip quivering.

“Sweetheart, come here,” the satyress gestured with her arms. The women sobbed harder against each other, with Melissa shushing all of Allison’s apologies. Allison gasped for breath between her hiccupping sobs, telling Melissa of Scott’s last moments.

Through teary eyes, Melissa took Allison’s shoulders in her hands and looked her right in the face. “My son always spoke so highly of you. He loved you, and if he was to go, I know he would have been glad that it was to protect the woman he _loved_ ,” she said with a sad smile. "Scott... always such a hero," she blinked a few tears back.

Isaac pretended not to wipe his eyes as the campers began to leave, Scott’s body secured in a wooden casket lined with rowan wood.

“Be safe,” Melissa told them one more time, handing them another bag of ambrosia as Allison handed Scott’s belongings back to her.

“We will,” Derek assured her since none of them could speak.

After the group had left, it left the five of them, still and in shock.

It was bright outside now, the morning having come.

“Let’s start for Beacon Hills,” Derek said solemnly. They nodded, desperate to leave the field that reeked of death and battle.


	6. DAY FIVE (Part 2): Back to Beacon Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I can't believe I've left for so long... I've written like 28 pages, so it's almost there. This is going to be way longer than I intended because I really want to take the time to tend to the characters, to build them and have them interact, which is tough when there's so many. But, I hope y'all enjoy.

The trip was not as nostalgic as Stiles had hoped. They weren't that far now, after grabbing a taxi for some of the distance and walking in between rides. They had to be careful about their spending and it was harder for anyone to track them this way. By the time they reached Beacon Hills, it was dark and they were exhausted beyond belief.

"Where to?" Isaac prompted.

"My house isn't that far, it's a small town. Follow me," stiles said with some renewed energy. He was glad to be in familiar territory and hoping to get to his dad. The unanswered calls made Stiles worry. When the turned down the street, Stiles felt his heart plummet to the ground. His house was in ruins.

_Dad._

He took off running.

"Stiles!" Lydia called out to him. He didn't turn around as he heard the thundering of footsteps following behind him, ready to attack.

"Dad!"Stiles screamed, frantically searching through the rubble. "Dad!"

"He's not here,” Lydia said, looking around the place.

"Dad!" Stiles was on the verge of breaking down, whoever did this could've hurt his father - or worse.

"Don't worry, we're gonna find him," Isaac assured him, face calm but determined. "Everyone split up, look for clues!"

Stiles tore through what was left of his house. The front door was missing, so he leapt through there and saw the mess on the floor of wood splinters and stuffing from the couch. He turned his attention to the stairs, which had splintered and cracked. He carefully dodged the cracks, going two stairs at the time.

"Dad!" he kept hoping his dad was safe, curled in a closet or under his bed. The bathtub had a large chunk missing from the smooth porcelain surface,  mirror above the sink cracked. His bedroom was next, and it had been torn apart. The walls were scratched, closet and drawers flung open, his clothes laid across the floor. His father's bedroom was the last one down the hall, and he burst through the door which hung on one hinge. "Dad!"

He knew, deep down inside, that it was useless. His father's bed had been toppled onto its side, and the same wreckage appeared as it did in Stiles' room. The window overlooking their lawn was shattered, glass strewn across the floor.

He tried to calm his breathing enough to meet back up with the others.

"Guys?" Stiles hollered as he made his way back downstairs.

"Out here!" Allison waved through the back window. the door leading from the kitchen to their backyard had been torn from the hinges as well, the frame scratched and tattered. He stepped out to see Isaac and Derek waving them both over with their flashlight.

"They found something?" Stiles said, hopeful.

"We think so. Lot's of footprints," Allison pointed at the soil bed to the side of the hose, pointing a flashlight. "There's smaller ones by the window, but there are definitely tracks of something big. They go both ways", she pointed further ahead, where the soil was softer.

They followed the path to Derek and Isaac who were standing on top of the hill just a few yards beyond Stiles' backyard.

"It looks like they went into the forest," Derek noted. "But whoever it was, the group didn't stay together.

"These guys went their own way," Isaac said, pointing at the small footsteps going west of where they stood. "They look like human footsteps."

"These are much larger, and rounder. We're not sure what they are, but they go deeper into the woods," Derek finished, pointing east.

"Where's Lydia?" Stiles asked, looking around.

"Confirming that the group of smaller footsteps lead back to the town, around some properties," she said, popping up out of nowhere. "I lost them once they hit the pavement."

"Then we go this way," Derek concluded, nodding at the large prints.

"Are you sure about this?" Allison asked, hesitantly looking at the darkness that surrounded them.

"Yeah. I know where I'm going," Derek said ominously.

"Wait, you're from Beacon Hills too?" Stiles asked, jogging to keep up with Derek.

Derek nodded absently.

"Huh, what are the chances," Stiles commented. Derek stayed more silent than usual as he led them through the woods. Somehow, he knew exactly where to turn and when there was a dip in the land. He hollered warnings over his shoulder to the group, telling them to watch their step or there.

Derek came to a stop. The footsteps continued a few paces forward, where he knew they would lead to an old, burnt shell of a house. His fingers wrapped around the flashlight painfully as he tried to suppress the memories. _Get a grip on yourself_. Even after the nine years, the emotions that surged through him felt like they were shredding his veins apart. The guilt, the sorrow, the anger. He could sense Stiles, bouncing with restless energy beside him, and he knew that Stiles had a million questions. He'd answer them, in time. Or so he told himself. He forced his feet to continue the familiar path - into the woods he had grown up in, played hide-and-seek in with hi siblings. He thought about Laura, and how strong she'd been through the ordeal. He thought about Cora - sweet, little Cora - who was with a foster home somewhere. He thought about his mom, juggling kids in her arms, smiling at them warmly with her bright amber eyes. Then he thought about Stiles' dad, and how he was depending on them. Who knew what they had taken him for? He forced himself to focus again.

"The footsteps split up again," he said, coming to a stop, letting the rest of the group gather around the prints.

"We'll split up, then," Isaac said, volunteering to follow one set of footsteps.

"Then take both Allison and Lydia with you," Derek instructed. "Under no circumstances do you leave each other," he said seriously.

They nodded - they hadn't planned on splitting up again.Stiles saw the way Derek split their group, trying to even the strengths. He felt useless next to Derek.

"Stiles, this way," Derek said, following the steps down the hill.

"Is that a house over there?" Stiles asked, making out a large shape just a few paces ahead, surrounded by a clearing.

"Yeah," he said. "That's the Hale residence." _Or what’s left of it, anyway._

"The Hale residence..." Stiles rolled the name on his tongue - it was so familiar.

He didn't have the time to figure it out as he heard a high-pitched scream, which had to belong to Lydia or Allison.

They saw the trees to the left shudder, and then three small dots came bursting through the clearing.

"Holy crap, Derek, what the hell is that?"

"Those... Are Cyclops," Derek said grimly. "Get to the house, Stiles. Find shelter.

"No way am I leaving you!"

"Think about your dad, Stiles!" Derek snapped. He didn't want to waste time. "Get to the house, look for more signs that your dad's been through here. That's how you can help," he urged. He ran before Stiles could argue, hoping that his words made some sense to the boy. He admired the loyalty and the bravery, but they couldn't afford to let their defences down. The quest required that everyone remain focused on the task, not their emotions, and Derek knew that.

  
Stiles hated that Derek had taken off, but now that he didn’t have the warrior at his side, he was suddenly a lot less sure of himself. Grudgingly, he made up the last bit of distance between him and the old house. Ashe approached, he saw the blackened wood and missing blocks in the foundation. It still stood relatively well, but there had been obvious damage. And that’s when it hit Stiles, why the name was so familiar.

“The Hale fire…” he whispered to himself, remembering that it had been the talk of the town for months after it happened. It was the case that had started his dad on the path to becoming sheriff for his bravery. He stepped around to the back, where he saw movement. His heart leaped into his throat.

 _Holy shit, I’m gonna die._ He panicked, trying to recall basic things he’d learned in his few days at camp but his mind was drawing a blank. Then, the mound let out a croaking noise that was so weak, Stiles forgot his fear. Curious, he inched closer.

“Help…”

Stiles kicked himself into high-gear. He recognized that voice anywhere! “Dad!” he shouted, hurrying over. He brushed some of the fallen leaves on the ground, blinking to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Dad, dear god, I’ve been so fricken worried!” He was shaking with relief, and hurried to support his dad into a sitting position. The sheriff’s skin was cold to the touch. Stiles ripped off his sack, taking out the windbreaker he had packed, throwing it over his dad.

“Come on dad, it’s me, Stiles,” he said, shaking his dad and willing his eyes to open.

"I remember..." his dad muttered. "I remember this place,” he slurred, blinking and looking around.

"Yeah dad, you were the first responder, remember?"

"Yeah.... Yeah."  His dad closed his eyes again.

"Come on dad, stay with me," Stiles pleaded. He couldn't lose his father... He was all Stiles had. "Please, dad, open your eyes, look at me," Stiles almost sobbed.

The sheriff opened one eye blearily. "Stiles?" It was like he had forgotten where he was or what had happened.

"Yeah dad?" He responded, trying to hide the pain that gnawed at him.

"I remember this place."

"I know dad, you were the first responder to the fire," Stiles repeated, afraid his dad was losing his mind. It was in that moment that the Cyclopes decided to _throw_ Derek across the clearing.

"Derek!" Stiles gasped as the man landed with a grunt. Lydia briefly checked on him before taking off toward the Cyclopes, now closing in. The three - _Christ where were they magically appearing from?_ \- walked slowly, larger than the one they encountered at the house.

"Derek... Had to protect those children," his had murmured.

"What?" This was the first time Stiles had heard that. His dad was just a deputy back then, and he had been better about not telling Stiles the details of a case (or Stiles was too young to worm information out of his dad back then). But, his dad was practically delirious at this point, should he really be taking anything his dad said seriously? And why had he said Derek's name?

"Dad... You never told me about there being children," Stiles said softly. Maybe his dad had even carrying around this secret, like a burden, this whole time.

"So many children... Couldn't save them all... Save..."

It could barely pass as a sentence, but Stiles felt terrible for his father. He thought about all those times his dad had strictly grounded him to "keep him safe". Seeing children in this accident had probably been the source of his father's overbearing need to protect him.

"Dad, you did the best you could," Stiles offered, trying to gently pat his dad's arm in comfort.

"Never saw them again..."

Stiles was frustrated, worried and confused at the same time. He didn't really understand what he was saying, just trying to make sense of what he could but it wasn't getting him far

"Took them in..."

The shock snapped Stiles right out of his frustration. "You what?"

"Signed them to me... Ha, some guardian I was."

 _Guardian._ Could it be?

"Always vowed to do better with you," his continued, pointing a shakes finger at Stiles.

"Oh dad...."

"Wonder if they're okay... Poor kids."

"Dad just listen for a sec, I know what to do."

It couldn't be a coincidence, right? Because what were the odds that his dad was targeted right after the prophecy was given _and_ his dad had mentioned the word guardian?

 _If one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern._ That was something his dad had always taught him - it was what he thought of every time he needed to solve a puzzle.

"Derek, this might sound crazy, but I think my dad is the one we were supposed to be looking for - I think he's the Guardian!"

Derek peered at him curiously as he slowly shifted to raise himself from the ground. He inhaled sharply and Stiles saw his features twist in a grimace. He rummages around his pack for ambrosia, offering it to Derek as he limped closer.

He explained everything as quickly as he could, noticing that the Cyclopes had retreated for some reason. Lydia, Allison and Isaac came jogging back, Allison clutching her upper left arm. Derek nodded to conclude Stiles' rant, letting him do what was needed, Derek filling the others in.

"That makes sense," Lydia murmured.

With shaking hands, Stiles lifted his dad's head up, and raised the vial to his lips. "Dad, this is gonna help you. Just, you have to trust me, all right?"

"Smells bad."

"I know, I'm sorry, but it's gonna help, okay? Please, dad, drink up," Stiles begged.

Obediently, his father parted his lips. The others held their breath as stiles poured the thick liquid into his dad's mouth with some difficulty.

"Stiles!" His dad barked, voice strained from trying to keep the liquid down.

"Dad, trust me! Just trust me!"

There was a small dribble of the dark fluid coming the corner of his mouth.

"No, you have to drink it!" Lydia shrieked.

Derek and Isaac, who were closest, flinched and covered their ears. Stiles felt Lydia's voice slam into him like a wall, and felt he oddly wanted to drink something. Miraculously, the sheriff obeyed, swallowing the foul drink.

There was a moment of silence after the loud gulp of the fluid as Stiles turned to the others.

"You know... Charmspeak," Derek stumbled. There was an unreadable look on his eyes, but if Stiles had to guess, Derek was either extremely afraid or extremely angry.

"But I... I don't know how I did it," Lydia's voice sounded so small - so unlike her. "I've never..." Her eyes darted back and forth between everyone, eyes crinkling in confusion and fear. Suddenly, his dad's body was jerking as he screamed louder than Lydia had. His limbs tensed into awkward angles, it seemed like his body was rejecting the cure. It was the right bottle, wasn't it?

"Lydia, it's okay, just... Just calm down, okay?" Stiles said, trying to gauge everyone's reactions. He was mostly worried Derek would refuse to work with another demigod who knew Charmspeak like Katherine, but his dad's life was at stake.

"Just, it's the right vial right?"

Lydia dug around and produced we own vial. "I kept the left," she said. "You gave him the right one," her voice sure and strong. It soothed Stiles, and he didn't want to dwell on whether or not he was under the influence of we Charmspeak.

"Shit..."

Isaac's warning turned their attention to the Cyclopes, coming back.

"Stiles..."

"GO!" He told them. He had to stay with his dad.

"I'm staying," Derek stated; there was no question in his voice, only certainty. There was no time to argue. The others took off for yet another round with the giants. Stiles wasn't sure they could take much more of this. The world of monsters of monsters was relentless!

"Dad, I really need you to wake up!" Stiles said urgently, shaking his father's convulsing body. Stiles felt his dad go still, head lolling.

"Dad...?"

"Hremmmmmr?" His dad said groggily.

"Oh dear Zeus Poseidon Hera thank everyone ever," he rushed, pulling his dad into a tight hug.

"Ease up, kid," the sheriff mumbled, giving Stiles a weak pat on the back on return.

"You don't even UNDERSTAND the heart trauma you've caused me, you're lucky I'm still alive," he tried to joke, willing his trembling hands to stay still.

"Stay behind me," Derek snapped, the look in his eyes dangerous as could be. He unsheathed his sword, readying.

"Stiles, what's going on?"

"Um, long or short version?"

His dad gave him a pointed look.

"Okay so basically you dropped me off at a magic voodoo camp and I was sent on a quest by a coyote and we've been running around getting attacked and I came to ask you something but then a bunch of Cyclopes kinda destroyed our house and you were, uh, dying, so we had to save you and now the Cyclopes are back." All in one breath. It was pretty impressive.

"Hm," was all his dad said in response.

"Here they come," Derek's voice cold as steel.

To their surprise (and immense relief) their friends seemed to be working with another group of skilled warriors - perhaps the camp sent reinforcements! Stiles hopes lifted. "Friendlies! We have friendlies! Deaton loves us!"

Derek's eyebrow did a skeptical little rise. "They're not from camp," he said tartly.

"Oh. Um, let's get to that later, yeah?" He shrugged sheepishly. Help was help, after all. Derek jumped into action, lending his help. With his added strength, Lydia disposed of one cyclops who had arrows sticking out of him every which way. The two moved systematically to eliminate the rest. The all-female group looked like miniature forms of Apollo, quivers filled to the brink and emptying them faster than Stiles thought humanly possible.

It was quick from there on out, all of them making their way to Stiles.

"Allison!" She was the first to get close enough that Stiles could see a nasty gash in her upper arm, blood staining her shirt.

"You're hurt! Come on, let's get you bandaged," he urged frantically.

"Allow us," came a powerful voice. Stiles looked the source. She was stunning with her grey-yellow eyes, and clearly the leader as the rest of the group fell behind her step and stayed in formation when she stilled.

"Thank you, for the help... Uh..."

Her smile was faint and amused. "Artemis, the Huntress."

Stiles mouth hung wide open. "Holy..."

"Stiles," his dad reminded him sharply, his father senses tingling as he felt stiles about to use foul language.

"Holy wow. Um, it's a real honour," he said, extending his hand.

She looked at it for a moment as if he were the world's biggest germfest, but did shake it eventually and WOW SHE HAD A STRONG GRIP.

"You're from Camp Half-Blood, aren't you?" she gandered.

"Yep!  Pretty obvious, huh?"

She swept her eyes over the group, battered and heaving for air. "Rather large group for a quest... How unusual."

"What do you mean?"

She cocked her head at him like he asked the world's stupidest question.

"She means they usually send groups of no more than three," Derek offered, arms crossed defensively.

"Oh."

"You have not been there long, have you?" she said, now staring with growing interest. "Now I wonder, why would they send a newcomer to the camp out on a quest of this... caliber."

"You know something," Stiles deflected, eyes squinting. "You know about our quest."

"Of course I do," she all but snorted. "I'm a Goddess of Olympus, don't you forget." She turned to Allison and Isaac then. "And hello my dear niece and nephew. Wonderful shooting, by the way, I'm very pleased." Isaac actually blushed at this.

"Don't change the subject," Stiles tried again.

"Your quest is the talk of Olympus right now," she offered up. "The Helm is of extremely great power - and in the wrong hands it is _beyond_ dangerous. Zeus has yet to hear about this, but when he does..."

As if on cue, the thunder crackled with lightning and the once clear blue sky darkened.

"Well... I guess he has, then," she shrugged. "Hunters, get ready to move," she gestured to the others, who gathered their arrows from the corpses and put together any supplies that had dropped. “It’ll storm for a few days, I imagine.”

"Wait! Can you help us?" Stiles pleaded desperately. "I don't know what I'm doing, I've been at the camp LESS THAN A WEEK! I was forced to do this, I've already lost my friend and I can't - I..." He looked around at the group, bloodied before him. "I can't lost anyone else." It came out as a whisper, and he saw Artemis give him a look of sympathy for once.

"You are about to be one of the greatest heroes Olympus has seen since Perseus Jackson," she said with finality. She fished a golden coin out of her pocket, which kind of looked like a drachma. "This is a very special coin, use it only if you desperately need my help.. Use it like you would a drachma for an Iris message, and it will vanish in the water. I will know to find you immediately." She grabbed Stiles' hand and placed it in his palm, curling his fingers around the heavy coin. It brought comfort to him, to know that she was rooting for him.

"I don't know if I can do this," Stiles slipped.

"You are not alone," she smiled as her eyes fell on the crowd around him. "Use their strengths, and find yours along the way."

Stiles had so many more questions, but she turned and sprinted with inhuman speed before he could even call out to her. The hunters followed her lead and they dashed off, blending into their surroundings and just like that, they vanished. He had to look at the coin in his palm just to convince himself that she had been real.

"What now?" Isaac whispered.

"Now we patch you kids up," his dad said sternly. Allison nodded in agreement, still gingerly checking on her wound.


	7. DAY FIVE (Part 3): Lydia's Powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and lovely feedback. I hope you enjoy the chapter! I'm still trying to make it very Percy Jackson oriented, but every now and then, the Teen Wolf universe fits perfectly. Feedback is appreciated. <3

They decided to make camp in the wreckage of their house, and Stiles finally got a good look at the damage. But it wasn't just broken chairs and holes in the walls that Stiles saw - he saw fragments of prized possessions and memories came rushing back to him - the stairs that splintered reminded him of the times he'd try to find the least squeaky spots to creep downstairs and how his dad always caught him, the giant hole in the dining room where his mother's painting once hung... his mother, who wasn't even human. He felt his breath quicken and he gripped the couch for support until his knuckles were pale white. Without realizing, he gasped desperately for air and slowly slid himself down the back of the couch until he was on the floor.

"Stiles?" Derek was beside him suddenly.

"Stiles!" his dad cried in worry, rushing to his side.

"What's going on?" Lydia asked, peering over Derek. 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut - the friends of people he had met just a few days ago as PROOF of this insane reality.

"Give him some room," he heard Derek say, followed by shuffling, and even though he didn't open his eyes, it was as though he could feel the space opening up in front of him.

"Here," Derek's voice continued to guide him. And then he felt the warmth of Derek's hand in his. With his eyes closed, he realized how big Derek's hands were, fingers thick and calloused.  Then, he felt Derek guide his finger along a rigid line by his thumb. "This is a scar I got when I was seven. Stiles, breathe with me. We were play-fighting. My two sisters and I. They teamed up one me. But I was still winning. Laura didn't like that. So she bit my hand. She always fought a little dirty." Derek's voice was calm and levelled. He inhaled when Derek paused, let it out as Derek spoke, and with the short sentences Derek purposely spoke, soon enough, his breathing calmed. That, and all he could think of was a little Derek with an 8-pack, and a lady version of him hanging by her teeth of his hand. It was such a ridiculous thought that he momentarily forgot about the mess they were in. 

"Keep your eyes closed. Just for a moment."  Stiles obeyed Derek as he continued. "A lot has happened. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be angry. We'll fix this. And the house." Stiles grip on Derek's tightened a bit at the mention of his house again. But, he was grateful for what Derek was doing. He was trying to give Stiles the time to adjust without seeing everything first, and surprisingly, it was helping. There wasn't an overload on his brain, and he let Derek describe what had been done, gave him piece by piece to help Stiles put the house together in his mind. 

"Are you ready?"

Stiles nodded. He slowly cracked his eyes open, blinking a few times. He saw the deep scuffs along the wall in front of him, just like Derek described, and for some reason it didn't overwhelm him anymore. He glanced wearily at his dad, whose face showed nothing but concern. Then he felt selfish, for being wrapped up in himself - sure it was crazy for him, but what about for his dad? He hugged his dad with all his strength, which elicited a small "oomph!" from the man. 

"Alright, Stiles. It's alright," he said, clapping Stiles on the back. Then, quietly, so nobody but Stiles heard him, he whispered, "You still got me."

"I'm sorry, dad," Stiles sniffled in return. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

John snorted. "Son, if it's anyone who's sorry, it's me." He stopped Stiles before he protested. "We'll talk later."

His cheeks burned a little when he remembered all his friends who just saw him have an episode. When he turned to thank Derek, the man was no longer there. His dad helped him off the floor before going off to find any blankets and pillows that hadn't been destroyed in the attack.

Stiles gathered his courage and went to face his friends. He barely walked through the kitchen  walkway, Isaac offered him a glass of water, which he gratefully took and Lydia gave him a small hug. They had been standing/sitting around the kitchen island with glasses of water and sullen looks. Stiles saw they had done their best to move the wreckage of splintered cupboards and the kitchen table set into a corner.

"Thanks guys," was all Stiles managed. Isaac nodded at him and the girls smiled. "I wonder how this is gonna look..."

"Fire," Isaac  supplied, waving his cell phone. 

"Great," Stiles mumbled. He suddenly remembered the fire that his dad had responded to and how it tied in with everything. "Guys, I think I might be onto something. Just... Just give me a sec. Derek, can you come with me?"

The group looked around, confused, but Stiles promised to fill them in later.

Derek dutifully followed Stiles until they were in what was left of the living room, out of earshot. 

"What's going on?"

"Derek, I hate to ask you this. I really, really do," Stiles blabbered. "And I really want you to hear me out, and if you don't want to answer, that's okay." He took a deep breath before launching into his theory. 

"My dad responded to a fire, a really long time ago. He said that there were kids inside and he couldn't save them all... And he said your name," Stiles started. Derek's eyes hardened and he heard the grind of Derek's teeth as his jaw clenched. "He said something about being a guardian to them, which means that he had signed to take temporary responsibility of the children, which a law enforcer can do for up to fourteen days until the appropriate arrangements are set for foster care or until they can contact a relative to take custody."

Derek exhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry, Derek, you know this is the last thing I want to put you through... I just.... If I could get my dad, do you think you would be okay to talk to us, to figure out if something else happened that night? Isaac said that the news outlets just stated the sheriff's house was destroyed in a fire, but we all know what really happened. Just, what if..."

Derek nodded, but his eyes stared off. 

"It's okay... to be scared. And it's okay to be angry," Stiles reminded him. Derek's face softened a little. At that point, Stiles saw his father carry a mountain of blankets and pillows down the stairs. 

"Figure the upstairs being filled with holes, we could make do with the living room. At least the walls are intact," he said, dumping the supplies on the ground. 

"Thanks, dad. There's... There's something we wanna talk to you about, if that's okay."

"Sure thing, kiddo, anything you need," he answered promptly.

"Dad, this is Derek," he introduced. "Derek, my dad... The sheriff."

"You can call me John," he said with a hand, but his eyes were studying Derek's face. "My gods, you're - you're Derek Hale."

Derek froze, hands still clamped as though his body shut down. John let out a breath, breaking the handshake to run his hand through his hair. 

"I can't believe it," he muttered, eyes tearing up. "I can't believe it. Derek Hale, you're.... After all these years." Stiles watched in surprise as his dad pulled Derek into a big hug, with Derek's eyes widening in bewilderment. He gave a hesitant hug back to the sheriff before they pulled away.

"You were... just a kid..." John closed his eyes, and Stiles recognizes the look of grief. "I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry..."

Derek put his hand on John's shoulder. "You're... you're the one who saved us," his voice cracked. "You pulled my sisters out of the fire., you came back for me. I... I owe you my life, sir."

And just like that, the two men hugged again and Stiles was feeling close to tears himself. "So it was Derek," Stiles confirmed.

"I couldn't forget that case if I tried. It's... Really good to see you, Derek." Derek merely smiled in return. “Really, really good.” It was clear that John was still in disbelief.

"I really hate to ruin this moment, seriously, but dad, can you remember anything else about that night?" Stiles asked. 

"Jeez, kid. It's been a hell of a long time," John responded, closing his eyes as if trying to remember what happened a decade ago. 

"Stiles?" The boy turned around to Lydia's concerned face. 

"Just take your time dad, wait for me to come back," Stiles said before heading over to the redhead. 

"What's wrong?"

Lydia just sighed. "Allison is just really torn up about Scott, and Isaac is doing his best to comfort her. And I... I just feel useless! I want to help. What are you guys going?"

"Well it turns out that my dad rescued Derek from a fire a long time ago, when Derek was just a teenager. There was a fire, and Derek and his whole family were inside. But it's just too coincidental. I think someone set that fire on purpose," Stiles finally said, watching Lydia's eyes almost pop out of her head. 

"You think someone tried to kill Derek's family?"

Stiles nodded grimly. He would have to wait for Derek to tell them the story of his substitute teacher since it really wasn’t his place.

"And how is this tied together?"

"Well, I think whoever tried to harm Derek's family is the one who knows about the Helm. And I think that's where our next step would be." 

"But Derek's been at camp for...."

"Yeah, it's been almost ten years."

Lydia frowned. "Is your dad trying to remember?"

"Yeah. If they're comfortable with it, maybe we can all listen so we don't have to repeat the story. I just - it's just that -"

"I know, Stiles," Lydia spared him. "I can't imagine it's easy for anyone to talk about it."

Stiles nodded before heading back to the two men, now sitting on the couches that remained unscathed. 

"Derek, are you comfortable talking about it?" Stiles asked hesitantly. 

"Yeah... Yeah it's about time I faced this, I think,"Derek said in a soft voice. "Bring the others in too, I probably won't want to repeat this again," he added. 

"I'll get us some coffee," John offered. "And hot chocolate for the kids," he added, pointedly looking at Stiles. 

And so sat Allison, Isaac and Stiles with their hot chocolate while Derek, Lydia and John had their coffee. John had a dossier in front of him with the reports to help refresh his memory. 

"It says right here the inspection done by the fire department revealed a faulty wire in the basement. It grew quickly due to the natural gas pipes that ran below the property," he read off the file.

"Derek, can you remember anything?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "It's been... too long." Stiles wanted to nudge Derek, but how could he force Derek to tell them something that he had only just been trusted to keep? In due time, he knew Derek would make the right call. 

"It's hard for me to remember and I'm reading the damned thing," his dad added. 

"I... I might be able to help," Lydia piped up, but she eyed Derek wearily. "You may not like this idea, but maybe I could try to coax the information out of you."

Allison and Isaac nodded their agreement, but Stiles was on the fence. With the way Derek reacted the last time she used Charmspeak, he knew that Derek wouldn't be fond of the idea.

"No," Derek said flatly. 

"Someone care to fill me in?" John looked around.

"Lydia has this ability, given to some select children of Aphrodite. It's called Charmspeak and it... It essentially persuades someone to do what she says."

Lydia fidgeted uncomfortably.  She hated having a power that she didn't know how to control. "Like I said, I don't know just how to control it yet, but the last time I did it, I just remember feeling a sense of urgency. Like.... Like if I didn't so something, he would... die," she said the last word so quietly, Stiles could barely hear it. 

"And you think you can recreate that feeling, right?" Allison asked.

Lydia nodded. "It wouldn't be too far off. We've just been through hell, and I feel like we're getting desperate. Without this, we might not get the clues we need. And the Prophecy..." 

"We are still in danger," Isaac said, who held Allison's hand tightly. Lydia nodded again. 

"No." 

Stiles stared at Derek. He knew better than to push, but surely he trusted Lydia?

"I would never do it against someone's will," Lydia promised, and laid a comforting hand on his. Stiles felt a plummeting feeling, but he couldn't push Derek to do something he so adamantly refused. 

"Will it work on me?" John asked. There was a moment of silence, where everyone was unsure how to proceed. 

"Dad, are you sure?"

"I trust you, Stiles, and that means I trust your friends."

Lydia beamed at him. "I promise I'm gonna do my best to help. All I'm going to do is try to convince you to remember things. If you feel uncomfortable, just let us know."

"Got it." He handed the file to Lydia so she could use the information as she took a spot in front of him. 

"Close your eyes," Lydia instructed. She took a deep breath, trying to reproduce the sense of urgency she had felt earlier. It wasn't as overwhelming, but she could feel goosebumps forming along her arms. and she knew she could do this.

"I need you to remember the night of the fire," she said in a steady voice. "You were the first responder. You arrived at the scene alone. Remember that night. What do you see?"

"The whole house, in flames."

"What else do you see?"

"It was too dark to see anything else."

"What do you hear?"

"Nothing," John responded, fidgeting in his seat.

"Remember that night," she said a little louder. "Remember what you heard that night."

"Screaming, lots of screaming," he corrected

"Who do you find?"

"A teenage girl. Her name was Laura." Stiles watched the corner of his eye as Derek put his hand to his mouth as though stifling a cry. "A younger girl, Cora. Their brother, Derek. And their uncle, Peter." Stiles hated himself for this, but he watched Derek's reactions and he noted the way Derek's brows furrowed as though he hadn't heard this news. 

"That's good, that's good," Lydia encouraged. "Keep going," she soothed. Stiles had to blink a few times to focus himself, finding that even though Lydia was focused on his dad completely, the rest of them were catching a residual effect.

"She was there," his dad whispered, head nodding off as though he were close to sleep. "Stiles, here, say hi to your mother."

Stiles couldn't help the way his heart began to race as he opened his mouth. Derek clamped his hand around Stiles' wrist. He slowly shook his head as if to warn Stiles to stay still.

Lydia shook herself out of her surprise as well. "Speak to her. Tell us what you said to her that night."

"What are you doing here?" John murmured. "How can that be? You lied to me!" he shouted. Stiles had a painful grip on the couch, trying not to rush to his dad and shake him out of this trance. Lydia looked over at Stiles, worried that she was going too far. He drew a deep breath, and with Derek's hand still resting on his wrist, grounding him, he nodded for Lydia to continue.

"How could you do this to me..." John almost whimpered. He took a shaky breath. "How could you do this to my boy."

Stiles closed his eyes, willed himself not to cry. Derek shuffled over and instinctively held Stiles, lending him strength. Stiles just nodded into Derek's shoulder as a thanks. Derek saw the way Allison and Isaac moved to get up but Derek shook his head, eyes flickering at John. Allison seemed to understand and relaxed back against the wall,  stilling Isaac as well.

"Wake up, John," Lydia said, voice small and hesitant. "I'm sorry, I can't do this any more," she told the group, tears in her eyes. "Please stop now."

"You shouldn't have lied to me!" John roared, his body twitching in the recliner. "How am I going to explain this to Stiles!"

"John, wake up," Lydia begged.

"You don't know that! You don't know what he'll turn out like!"

"John, please, stop, wake up!"

"No.... No, that can't be true.... Not my Stiles. This is all your fault!"

"Stiles, I don't know how to stop him," Lydia said with a defeated look on her face.

"What are you talking about? I didn't see a helmet!"

Everyone in the room had their eyes on John. "Oh my gods," Lydia whispered. "The Helm..."

"Who the hell is Katherine Argent? Why do I have to find her?"

Derek inhaled sharply, and Stiles noticed he had paled at the name. Allison also clamped her hand over her mouth, eyes round as saucers.

"AAAAAH!" his dad screamed.

"Lydia! You have to snap him out of it!" Derek hissed.

"Wake up!" Lydia begged. "Please, wake UP!"

John continued to writhe in the chair, his face twisted in agony.

"Lydia, he could  _ die _ if you don't do something. You're the only one who can do this.  _ Scream like you mean it _ ."

"PLEASE! WAKE UP!" Lydia screeched, loud enough that Derek flinched away from her.

A gasp of air turned their attention back to the sheriff.

"Stiles?"

"Dad!" he flew toward his father and hugged him. "It's okay, you're okay."

"Yeah.... Yeah, I am," his dad assured him. "What happened?"

"You don't remember anything?" Stiles asked, stunned that his dad could forget.

"Lydia?" John asked, noting the girls tear-streaked cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"I'm - so - sor - sorry," she choked, finally letting herself cry.

"C'mon," Allison urged, taking Lydia into the kitchen.

John watched as the girls walked by. "What on Earth happened?"

"Charmspeak is a powerful weapon," Derek informed him. "It also takes a lot of power to control it, use it properly. When we started, it went smoothly, but soon, you fell into a deeper trance than she could pull you out of. She had more power than she knew, and when she couldn't pull you out the first time, she panicked. She lost control for a while, and I think that scared her."

"I remember the memories, it was like I was there... but it just felt like a dream to me. A bad one, but I knew she was there somehow," John said.

"That's good to know," Isaac piped up. "It means that Lydia somehow managed to lend her presence or something."

"It.. looked pretty scary dad. You were shouting and it looked like you were in pain. I was worried," Stiles said softly.

"Lydia was really worried too. Worried she hurt you," Isaac added.

"Let’s go tell her I'm okay,” John gestured and Isaac’s empty cup. “And get you some more hot chocolate.” Isaac seemed delighted and followed happily.

Stiles took the time to try and talk to Derek. "How are you holding up?"

Derek grumbled, "I'm fine."

"So you keep saying." Stiles continued to stare, and there was no way that Derek would've missed it, even though he was looking down at his feet.

"It's... A lot to take in. I never knew Peter made it out alive. By the time your dad got me out, the ambulances were shuffling me and my sisters into the back, giving us these blankets or whatever.... I didn't even go back out, to find the rest of my family, I -" Derek cut himself off with a pained look. "I- I let them die," he choked.

"Whoa, hold the phone," Stiles interrupted. "Derek, you were just a teenager! And you had to worry about your sisters, there's no way this is even remotely your fault."

"No, Stiles. It is," Derek said sternly. He buried his face in his hands. "Kate Argent."

"Wait, like Katherine Argent?"

Derek nodded stiffly, still refusing to make eye contact. "She...I led her to my house. She knew where I lived. She did this to me... To my family. I led her right to my family."

"Derek..." Stiles was at a loss for words. Here, undoubtedly one of the strongest people he'd ever known, was crumbling under the weight of his own guilt. "Derek, listen to me... Kate's the one who did this. Not you. She used Charmspeak on you, Derek.”

"I was too... too weak to stop her," Derek said, voice thick with shame.

"Stop this," Stiles said angrily. "Derek, don't you dare think you had a part in this. She used you. She's our next clue to the Helm, and she targeted your family. We  _ will _ get to the bottom of this, and we  _ will _ make her pay." It had come out a lot more vengeful than he had originally planned, but it calmed Derek down just enough for him to talk some sense into him. "We're gonna need you now more than ever. It's up to you and my dad to piece together everything now."

"And me," Allison said quietly.

Stiles and Derek looked at her in confused. She was nursing her arm with a guilty look.

"Derek... I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Allison whispered, brown eyes wet with tears. "Kate Argent... That's my aunt."

Derek looked at her calmly. "I figured, Argent isn't a common name," he said.

"You knew?" she gasped. Derek shrugged in response.

"I had a suspicion, I guess," Derek said uncomfortably.

"Gods, Derek... I would be so... So angry!"

"He was too busy being angry at his damn self," Stiles muttered, wondering how much messier this could get. Why did the quest require them to drag the people he cared about through hell and back? Digging up all these skeletons…

Derek took a deep breath. “There’s something you should all know,” he said tersely, every muscle tense as he tried to tell them what happened that night. Stiles was immediately at his side, nodding in encouragement to lend moral support.

“Katherine Argent was a substitute teacher back at Beacon Hills High School when I was there, nine years ago. She… She pretended that I was a gifted student, and began showing a lot of interest in me, recommending after school programs, inviting me to lunches to do advanced tests and things like that. It was to get me alone, obviously, which I didn't realize at the time. She used… Charmspeak on me. And she was smart about it,” Derek added bitterly. “Little by little, she convinced me that I should bring her to my home. Apparently substitute teachers aren't privy to personal information. She said she had to meet the parents of  _ such a unique student. _ ” He inhaled deeply, and it was obvious he was trying  to continue without faltering, but Gods, Stiles’ blood was boiling just listening. 

“I fell for it,” Derek barely managed. “I was stupid enough to think that it was all true, and I led her right to my family. I… I invited her in, she sat there with this fake smile as she talked to my…” Derek’s voice broke off. They gave him time to gather himself.

“Then she was gone, just like that. School was out for the summer, and I never saw her again, even when I went back for summer school. The fire was just a week after she had been there. I always knew she was behind it, but could never prove it. The insurance came through without a hitch, taking responsibility for the damage so there was never a chance for investigation into foul play.”

“We should’ve done more…” John said with a pat to Derek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. We’ll get her.”

"Would you know where to find her?" Isaac asked Allison, anger written on his face. It was the first time Stiles had ever seen Isaac look like that. 

Allison shrugged apologetically. "My family doesn't keep in contact with her much... They always said she was a bad influence. She's my dad's sister, I could try to contact him?"

"It's a little late now," John interrupted, pointing at the clock which read 3:04AM. "I think you kids have had more than enough for today."

"He's right, we should rest. Get an early start tomorrow," Lydia agreed.

"We should set up watch," Isaac added. The group agreed. 

"I'll take first watch," Derek volunteered, eyes still glued to the floor. 

"I'll stay up with Derek, we should do pairs, if at all possible," Lydia agreed.

Stiles was going to protest, but he could read Lydia's fidgety body language. He figured she couldn't sleep even if she wanted to.. Oh well, he would find time to talk to Derek afterwards.

"Just give me a few hours to absorb all this, and I'll be good to go," John added with a nod.

"Wake me up too, then," Stiles said, wanting some more time with his dad. John smiled at him.

Allison and Isaac agreed to the last shift, and without much more prompting, they fell asleep, exhausted from the day’s events.

 


	8. DAY SIX (Part 1): Nightwatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they take shifts keeping a look-out, and there's some [pack] bonding that happens. I really enjoyed writing the Lydia-Derek part. Young adult angst and a deeper look into the backgrounds of the characters. Hope you liked it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT AM I DOING?! - me, every time I type something
> 
> Hope this was a chapter that you could enjoy. I know it seems a littler filler-y but I'm a BIG fan of character development and relation-building.

Lydia and Derek watched the others fall asleep, poised on the staircase. They left a gap between them, which made Lydia unnerved. She wanted to trust each and every single one of them - but even though she knew why Derek was so distant, it bothered her.

"I would never use Charmspeak on you," Lydia offered quietly. 

Derek nodded. "I know."

Lydia was surprised. If he knew that she would never harm him, why was he so cold-shouldered?

"I just want you to know that you can trust me," she finally said. 

"I do trust you," he said, turning to look her in the eyes. They held nothing but honesty. 

"Then why..." Lydia trailed off. Was she acting foolish? She was sure that she hadn't imagined it. The way he avoided direct eye contact with her. 

Derek cracked a small smile. "It's not you. I'm sorry if it seems that way," he said.

Lydia nodded as though she understood - even if she didn't.

"Is that why you volunteered to take first watch with me?" he asked.

"I wanted you to trust me," she repeated. "And out of everyone in the group, I feel like you and I haven't gotten past our differences."

"You're from Aphrodite," Derek whispered. "I've had a bad run with Aphrodite kids, that's all." 

"What Katherine did was wrong," Lydia said, almost too loudly. 

"Not just Kate," Derek said softly.

"Wait, what?"

Derek smiled bitterly. "Drew." 

Lydia's face contorted before her eyes grew wide in understanding. "Oh... Derek!" he hissed. "No way! Not DREW."

"She stayed at the Lost Cabin for a while remember?" he tried defending himself.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "If I was Aphrodite, I wouldn't have wanted to let the world know she was my daughter either."

Derek chuckled. "She remained unclaimed for almost a month... We got bored."

"Derek!" Lydia squealed quietly. She couldn't believe it! When they finally quieted their giggles, she said, "It's her loss. Can't believe she left you for a fling with Aidan."

"She didn't leave me for him" Derek mentioned. "She just never told me about him."

Lydia went from joking to furious. "You've got to be kidding me," she growled. 

Derek shrugged as though it was no big deal. "It's okay."

"It's NOT okay. Derek, I'm so sorry."

Derek smiled at her. "It's okay. Thank you, Lydia."

"For what?" 

"For proving not all Aphrodite kids are the same."

Lydia made a happy noise before hugging Derek's arm and resting her head on his shoulder for a while. To her surprise, he didn't move away. She felt like she should give Derek something in return, to make him feel less vulnerable. 

"Would you like to hear a story?" she asked.

"Sure," Derek said, unsure of where she was going with this.

"It's not a happy one," she warned, not moving. She told him about his father, being absent most days and chasing women whenever he could, travelling the world for business. "I think he's trying to fill the void that my mom left him with. But they'll never be as beautiful as her, he knows that. I was at my grandma's a lot because of it. She seemed to always know what I was, but I knew my dad never told anyone. He said the whole thing was messed up, when my mother told him, but she always made me feel special. I miss her,” she ended softly, which let Derek know that Lydia, too, had lost her family. 

“That’s why you love camp so much,” Derek guessed. “You consider them family.” Lydia hummed. 

“Don’t you?” she asked. He didn’t answer right away. The answer should’ve been obvious - he’d never left camp in nine years, Deaton was the closest thing he had to a parent and the kids could be counted as siblings. But when he thought of  _ family,  _ he couldn’t shake the images of Cora, Laura, his brothers Darren and Maverick, his little cousin Evelyn, his mom, his uncle Peter. They all lived together in that house, it was constantly filled with laughter and chatter. Now he stayed in a cabin, by himself more often than not where it was quiet enough that he could hear the wind outside.

“It’s not that I think the campers are replacing the family that I have,” Lydia said, as though reading his mind. “But they’re the family,  _ the part of me _ that gets what I’m going through, that I don’t have to hide who I am or shy away from. My dad tried so hard to forget my mom, to forget that a part of her was with me… He made me feel so ashamed of something I couldn’t control. For a time, I pretended like I was an airhead so the kids wouldn’t pay too much attention to me, because somehow I felt like I deserved that.”

Derek understood now, why Lydia was the way she was. The first time he’d heard her, he thought she was just some loud-mouthed gossip girl. Getting to know her and see how intelligent she was. But she had all this bottled up inside her, so she was loud and boisterous at camp because she was appreciated in a way that she never was outside of camp.

“You found your place at camp,” Derek said, almost jealous of her. “I haven’t found that just yet.”

“You will,” Lydia countered nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t a big thing. “You absolutely will.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, and in that moment, with Lydia’s head on his shoulder, he felt a glimmer of hope for himself. They sat in silence, sometimes breaking it just to tell each other tidbits of information, like trading secrets they’d kept for too long. Before long, Lydia motion to the clock, signalling that it was time to wake up the Stilinskis. 

With a bit of grief, he nudged Stiles awake while Lydia gently patted the sheriff’s arm. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Stiles took a seat at the dining room table, his dad making them both some coffee to help stave the fatigue. 

“Thanks,” he whispered when his dad handed him the steaming mug.

“How are you holding up?” his dad asked him. Stiles considered this for a very long time, trying to sift through his emotions.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I’m alive, and that’s already a miracle,” he half-joked. He fiddled with the cup, fingers thrumming along the ceramic side. “I just, barely have a grasp of it all, you know?”

John snorted. “Trust me, I know.”

Stiles cracked a weak smile. “Sometimes I don’t think it’s real.”

“Sometimes, I still hope it isn’t,” his dad countered. 

“Touche.”

“What’s on your mind, Stiles?”

“God, where do I begin…” He held his heads in his hands. “I so thought yo were pulling a prank on me, when you dropped me off in the  _ middle of nowhere. _ ”

“Hell of a prank I pulled, don’t you think?”

Stiles laughed softly. He missed this, just leisurely talking with his dad. “Yeah, you outdid yourself.” There was a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their beverages before his looked at him with a serious face.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. That I didn’t tell you earlier,” John said guiltily. “The last thing I wanted was for you to get involved in something like this, something so dangerous.”

“Dad, it really isn’t your fault. I think… I mean, I’m almost used to it already, which I know is all kinds of weird, but these friends I’ve made…” Stiles lost track of what he was trying to say, and hoped his hands gestures finished his thought for him. His dad was very good at interpreting his vague hand signals.

“You feel like you belong,” his dad concluded.

“Yeah!” Stiles agreed. That’s exactly it. His whole life he’d grown up with very few friends. He’d been picked on by Jackson, rejected by Heather, the one time he thought he had made a friend, Matt turned out to be a downright creep. He never fit in anywhere, and boy had it been tough. “They welcomed me right away… and they’ve taken such good care of me.”

“I’ve noticed,” his dad probed, eyes trailing over to Derek’s sleeping form. Stiles’ blush was a dead giveaway.

“It’s… Complicated,” he opted for.

“Ain’t that the truth,” his dad muttered. “Well, kid, you’re an adult now… On paper, anyway.” Stiles stuck his tongue out, proving John’s point.

“You’re not surprised?”

“By what, exactly?” 

“That Derek’s… A Derek? I mean, even I was a little surprised,” Stiles said, remembering the way he thought about Derek on the first day.

“Stiles, have you ever noticed the way you visit the station when Parrish is the one on front desk duty?”

Stiles spluttered, cheeks flaming. He heard a grumble from the dining room, and tried to hold back his coughing mess.   “Jesus, Dad!” 

The sheriff simply cocked his head to the side with a shrug. Boy, he’d missed teasing Stiles like this. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that you’re my son,” he said, once Stiles had his spasm. “I think I know you pretty well, and maybe I saw something you hadn’t just yet. Doesn’t change anything. But this is big,” he said. “I just want you to be careful, and I want us to be able to talk about it. Sound alright?” It was about as close to “The Talk” that he’d ever gotten and probably would get for some time,

Stiles nodded, his face still an abnormal shade of pink.

“Good.” And that was enough of that. They spent their time catching up, and Stiles explained how his couple of days were at camp. When he told his dad about the panic attack and Derek’s help, his dad looked relieved. 

“I’m glad he was there,” his dad said softly. “He seems good for you.” And he meant that, earnestly. His son had always stood out amongst others, and it was hard for him to find friends that accepted his oddities. He remembered for a time when Stiles had been embarrassed about his crush on a girl named Heather. During that time, John had worried about Stiles getting his heart broken at such a young age, but Stiles had simply come home and said she didn’t want to go out with him. He spent days waiting for the fallout of it, but Stiles never showed any signs of it affecting him. Then, a couple weeks after, he’d heard some of the other kids talking at the station about how Heather had humiliated him by laughing in his face in front of a huge crowd. He had half a mind to arrest them all for shoplifting, but per the outlines, he had let them go with a warning instead. Still, he had felt out of reach from Stiles. Why hadn’t his son told him this? Now there was Derek, and watching the way Derek talked Stiles through his panic impress was not only impressive, it seemed natural, like Derek was always meant to protect his son. 

“Yeah. He’s been such a big help,” Stiles whispered. “Dad, I’m scared.”

“I would be too,” he responded truthfully. 

“After we left camp, we had to visit Hades in the Underworld and then Isaac had this moment where I honestly thought I might have lost him. And this prophecy just scares the shit out of me. I mean, from what I understand of the prophecy, it seems that either Allison or Isaac might not make it back to camp, and I was so scared that it was happening right then and there. Derek helped Isaac through it, but I knew, I just  _ knew  _ that I couldn’t breathe just yet. Scott… He was the first friend I ever made at that camp - he’s the one who helped me transition and get me set up. I’d be so fucking lost without him. And now he’s dead, and it’s my fault. I asked him to come on this stupid quest with me and I know he didn’t have to. But he did. I just… I can’t believe it. I saw his  _ dead body _ .” Stiles hadn’t even realized that a tear had escaped him until it splashed in his cold coffee. 

He felt his dad scoot closer and wrap an arm around him. “None of this is in your control.  _ None  _ of it. You made some amazing friends, Stiles. And they’re here to help you. I know it’s scary, and I know the prophecy is hanging over your head, but if spend your time fighting every thing that’s about to happen, you won’t have the strength to continue this quest.” 

Stiles knew his dad was right. There was no use worrying himself sick or else they’d never find the focus to finish the quest. He just wished he was better at defending himself so he could be useful like the rest of the group. 

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get a little more shut-eye before you leave tomorrow,” his dad, nudging Stiles to get back to sleep. 

“What are you gonna do after we leave?” Stiles asked, worriedly. 

“Get this fixed,” he said, waving around at the destruction. “Who knows, maybe I can stay at the station,” his dad joked.

“Why don’t you stay with Claudia?” Stiles asked.

“Time for you to go to sleep now,” his dad said, changing the subject, but Stiles didn’t miss the small smile on his dad’s face. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Allison and Isaac were ready to take their shift, having rested the most. They took the stairs up and perched on the roof, since there was a gaping hole in the roof in which they could see into the living room. 

“You doing okay?” Isaac asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes, tossing the throw over their shoulders. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it was comforting just to have it. They had both been at the camp for a bit over two years now. Besides Stiles, they were the newest campers on the quest. 

Allison nodded halfheartedly. 

“Let me rephrase,” Isaac nudged her gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Allison sighed heavily. “Gods, where do we even start…”

Isaac hugged his sister. It had taken him a few months to get used to the idea that all the Apollo kids were actually his siblings, but Allison had arrived just a few days after him and they had gotten along with each other right off the bat. 

"I feel like I'm waiting for someone to pinch me, and wake me up from this.... this nightmare," she started. "I know what we signed up for, really, it's just... Still so surreal."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he agreed. He was still having a hard time believing all that had happened in just a few days. He was still reeling from his episode in the Underworld, trying to push away the thoughts that had suddenly forced their way into his mind. It had made him feel violated.

"Do you think Derek trusts me?" Allison asked.

Isaac looked confused. "Why wouldn't he?"

Allison sighed, and Isaac looked at her - really looked at her - for the first time since this began and, with great sadness, realized that she looked worn out. Her hair, usually perfectly curled, was piled on top of her head in a bun and she began to show signs of bags under eyes. Her arm was tightly bandaged, courtesy of the sheriff, and her perpetual smile had disappeared. Sweet, smiling Allison was gone. 

"I mean, I wouldn't!" she said, frustrated. "I sit here and I think to myself, what if it was the other way around? What if I found out that his uncle had murdered my family?" She stared out into the town, watching the sky begin to pink with the rising sun. 

"Derek's had a long time to digest all this," Isaac assured her. He and Derek were pretty close, by Derek's standards anyway. They certainly didn't have sleepover parties and spill their guts out, but they knew a few things about each other that most of the other campers didn't. He liked to think that he knew Derek, for the most part anyway. Sometimes he could predict how Derek would react to certain things or what he was thinking. "He's also got a good head on his shoulders... You're not your aunt, he knows that."

"I'd still have a hard time getting past it," she mumbled. 

"He's gotten to know you over the past two years, he can see the difference."

"I hope so."

"Stop feeling so guilty about everything," Isaac said, rolling his eyes. "You're not at fault."

"Scott," Allison whispered, eyes closed to stop her tears from falling. She felt weak like this, unable to stop herself from crying just at the thought of the satyr. 

Isaac didn't want to reminded her of that, but he knew she had to take a lot of time to mourn. He knew how she felt about the satyr - everyone did. He didn't have the words to comfort her, simply held her as her body shook with silent tears. Scott had been the first one to greet him at the edge of camp, introducing him to everyone just like he did with Stiles. Scott was trustworthy and kind, that Isaac felt he could tell Scott anything. When winter break had come around, campers were leaving to visit their families and Scott had asked him why he wasn't as eager to leave. He ended up telling Scott everything - how his step-father was abusive, how his mother didn't do anything about it, the torture he'd gone through. Scott didn't look at him like damaged good, he simply insisted Isaac go with him back to his house for the holidays. Since then, he'd spent most of his breaks with Scott and Melissa, who had thought of him like a second son. He knew that she felt guilty about his death, and tried to reminded her that it wasn't her fault. "Remember what Melissa said," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "This is how Scott would have wanted it..." 

He was interrupted by a sob from Allison. He let her grieve, knowing what it was like.To his surprise, he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Soon, he began to feel his own body tremble, and it was Allison's turn to comfort him. It felt terrible, but relieving to have his time to grieve.Perhaps it was a delayed reaction, or maybe he didn't want to appear weak in front of everyone (again), or maybe he was too shocked, or maybe he was trying to hold it together for Allison. He didn't know why, but boy, it felt good to let it out. 

"May he rest in peace," she whispered, giving Isaac's hand a squeeze. Isaac didn't trust himself to speak, so he just squeezed back, and they looked to the heavens, sending their love skyward. They tried to enjoy their peace while they could, knowing that they would have to wake the others soon, and head out to find Kate Argent.

 


	9. DAY SIX (Part 2): Tracking Down Argent

Stiles couldn't tell if the sleep helped him or made him even more tired, but when he woke, he felt every ache in his muscles. The plus side was that he saw Derek's bed head and it was RIDICULOUS. He hid his snicker while Derek yawned and stretched. Lydia woke up, hair in round, full curls. She excused herself to do touch-ups on her make-up while the sheriff yawned and offered to make them all some coffee. 

"There's a shower downstairs," Stiles offered, wondering if it was still working. "And a bathroom upstairs but the tub's currently cracked in half."

Derek smiled at him, eyes groggy, but trudged downstairs to clean up while Stiles went upstairs, finding Lydia already inside. She was focused on her eyeliner as Stiles expertly moved around her to grab his toothbrush. 

"You wahha thowher thirst?" Stiles asked around his toothbrush. Lydia rolled her perfectly done eyes at him. 

"You can shower first, darling," she waved, exiting the bathroom. 

Stiles took about five minutes to completely wash himself head-to-toe, making sure to scrub everywhere he could. He wanted to head out as soon as he could, get this all over with. Absentmindedly, he dried himself off, scrubbing his hair dry with his towel before heading to his room. This inadvertent stop had done him good as he got fresh clothes out of his drawer. He stopped by the linen closet to grab towels for everyone. 

Hopping down the stairs, feeling refreshed, he handed towels to everyone before heading to the basement. He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah," came a muffled voice. 

"I brought some towels for you," Stiles stated, flopping two large towels down on the sink beside the shower, remembering his night at camp when Derek had done this for him. 

"Thanks," Derek's voice echoed off the shower walls. Stiles could hear the water running off him and tried really hard NOT to think about the way Derek's body must look under the water, muscles rippling as he ran his hands through that damn hair of his. With the last bit of his self-restraint, he turned and closed the door behind him, exhaling as though it required an immense amount of effort. He'd done it. He'd resisted tearing the shower curtain aside to stare at Derek. Congratulations. 

He hated himself.

He went upstairs, trying to focus on the task at hand. Lydia was at the table, hair wrapped in her towel and he could hear the shower running upstairs to indicate Allison was still in there. They each had a solemn look, but at least they looked presentable. Stiles looked around the table as Derek sauntered upstairs to join them, his hair still in wet spikes on his head. Isaac and John came into the room carrying six mugs of steaming coffee.

“Bless you,” Stiles murmured, grabbing his mug. 

“Anyone else feeling this sense of impending doom?” Isaac said, not-so-lightly. Stiles fixed him with a stare as the blonde shrugged, eyes staring into his coffee. 

“Real optimist, this one,” John gestured with his mug. They sat quietly, waiting for Allison before they brainstormed on how to continue. None of them wanted to continue, really, given their current streak. Stiles saw the hesitation written on everyone’s faces - maybe they should just all head back to camp and pretend this quest didn’t exist. He said just that. 

“Don’t be stupid, Stiles,” Lydia chided. “Once a prophecy has been given, there’s no going back. The  _ only  _ reason for a prophecy to be spoken is to avoid chaos and destruction. Believe me, I want nothing more than to return to camp, but you heard what Artemis said.”

“If we don’t get that Helm back, we could be looking at serious trouble,” Allison agreed. 

"Fine, fine, save the world - got it," Stiles grumbled. Allison took a deep breath. "It's time to give my dad a call." The rest  of them looked at her silently as she used Isaac's phone, since he was the only one who brought one. They held their breath as it rang several times. Just when Allison was about to give up, she heard a gruff voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Dad!" she exclaimed. 

"Allison?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where are you? Whose phone are you using?"

"I'm fine dad," she said, dodging the questions. Ever since her mom met Chris, he'd been the father figure in her life. He was surprisingly calm when he learned about Allison's father and her nature. Her mother, Victoria had fallen ill shortly after they had gotten married, and with the terminal illness, she chose to end her own life. Chris had been Allison's rock throughout the whole ordeal and loved her like she was his own. He never re-married after Victoria's passing, which meant she was the apple of his eye, always the centre of his attention. The first time she called him 'dad' he'd been so ecstatic. She smiled fondly at the memory. "I'm using a friend's phone, mine's still at camp."

"And it's off, right?"

She rolled her eyes. He'd had taken every measure to learn about demigods, which included security measures. Since cell phones attracted monsters, it was instructed that demigods don't turn them on at camp. Only to be used once they leave camp and even then, use should be kept to a minimal. "Yes, dad, it's off."

"Good. Are you in trouble?" She was used to this - her dad worked as a freelancer installing security tech that he had built himself. Before that, he'd been in the army. His past made him a little uptight (or paranoid, as she called it). He had tried to teach her how to use a gun, but she much preferred her bow. "Dad, I'm fine," she repeated. "But I do need some help."

"What is it? What do you need?"

"I need to talk to Kate," she said, hoping for the best. She felt everyone's eyes on her, desperately trying to piece together the conversation, no doubt. 

"Kate?" she could hear how confused he sounded. 

"Yeah," she urged. "I promise dad, I'll fill you in on everything, but right now I really need to talk to her."

Lydia scribbled something on a piece of paper, pointing at the message.  FOR HELP. She nodded. in understanding.

"I need her help with something," she added smoothly. 

"Is there anything that I can do instead?" her dad asked. 

"Sorry, dad," she apologized. "You know I'd ask for your help any day, but Kate's the only one who can help me."

"Ally... I don't even know if I'd have her information, you know she moved around a lot."

"I know, dad. I had no idea where to start, I figured if anyone could find her, though, it'd be you."

Her dad chuckled. "You got that right, kiddo. Alright, let me try and see if anyone knows where to get a hold of her. I'll call you back at this number?"

"Sure!" she said happily. "Talk to you soon, dad."

After she hung up, she was immediately barraged with questions.

"Calm down!" John said, causing them all to cease and stay silent. "Alright Allison, what's the verdict."

"My dad said she moved around  a lot, but he's gonna see if anyone in the family knows where she went. He'll call us back once he finds something."

They nodded, taking it as a good start.

"What now?" Allison asked, body thrumming with anticipation. 

"I think... I should talk to my uncle," Derek said. They looked to him. "He was there the night of the fire, I didn't even know he was still... alive. Maybe he saw something too... and it would just be nice to see him for myself." 

John looked at him uncomfortably. "Derek... There's something you should know. We got him out after you kids, but he was in the basement. He suffered severe injuries."

Derek closed his eyes, feeling another wave of guilt.

"We rushed him to the hospital, but he's been in physiotherapy ever since." 

"Can we visit him there?" Allison asked.

"I don't see why not. It's just the rehabilitation centre behind the town hospital."  John looked at the time. I should be at work soon, but I really don't like leaving you kids like this.." 

Stiles nudged his dad. "We'll be okay. Don't get fired."

"Well, keep in touch then, okay?" his dad asked. 

Isaac gave him the cell phone number, "We'll try to call every now and then," Stiles assured him.

"We can go see if Derek's uncle can tell us anything while we wait for Allison's dad to call us back."

John nodded as they all packed their belongings. He took Stiles aside and placed his hands on Stiles' shoulders. "Be careful, Stiles. Please," he begged. He dropped his son off a week ago, thinking this was the best thing for him, to be around kids just like him. Now, he was beginning to regret that decision. 

"I will, dad. Promise you'll take care of yourself too."

John hugged his son with as much strength as he could muster, marveling at how his son had matured.  "I will."

He watched the kids in front of him, gathering their meager belongings. "Take anything you can," his dad said, urging them to take supplies: bandages, granola bars, water bottles, anything that would keep. It tore his heart in half that these  _ children  _ (in his eyes, anyway) were taking on such impossibly challenging tasks. The mental - not to mention the physical - strain was immense, he could see it in their forced smiles and hunched shoulders. They were carrying the weight of the world. As they exited the house, he turned to them.

"Take care of yourselves, and each other," he said, unable to help himself from gathering each of them in a hug. From Stiles had told him,, there was danger at every turn. "If you need anything - anything at all - do  _ not _ hesitate to call me."

His dad walked out (where the front door would've been), with Stiles feeling a deepening hole in his stomach watching his dad leave. 

"He'll be okay," Lydia tried to comfort him. Stiles nodded.

Just then, Isaac's phone rang. Allison picked it up immediately.

"Hello?"

"Allison, I think I've found her," her dad's voice greeted her.

"That's awesome! I knew you could do it," she said.

"That's the only good news I have though," he responded. He sighed. "I'm sorry Ally, but she's been bouncing around a lot. They last known location is in Guadalajara, Mexico. The last phone number she had is no longer in service, I tried it already. I'm not sure if you're gonna be able to find her," he said. 

Allison cringed. "No, that still helps. Thanks, dad."

"Allison."

The tone of her dad's voice made her freeze. "Yeah?"

"Please tell me you're not going to Mexico."

She really couldn't lie to her dad. "Well... No. At least, not that I know of. Yet."

"What's going on? Maybe I can help," he pleaded.  Allison worried her bottom lip. She hated that she was keeping her dad on the outs, they were so close, especially after her mother's passing. 

"I'm not sure, but if I need anything, I'll give you a call?" 

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "I don't like this, Allison. I hope you're being safe."

"I am, dad."

"Is Isaac with you?" he asked. Isaac spent some time with them, when he hadn't gone to Scott's. They'd hit it off, ever since Allison said Isaac was good at archery too. Plus, she had a suspicion that Chris always wanted more children, and was more than happy to meet Allison's half-brother. 

"Yeah, he is."

"Can I talk to him?"

Allison wordlessly handed the phone to Isaac. 

"Hey Chris," he greeted.

"Hi Isaac," he said, relieved to hear Isaac's voice. At least he could take peace that they'd watch out for each other. "Please take care of each other out there. I know I'm no demigod, and maybe you can't explain everything to me, but try to check in every now and then, alright?"

"You can count on it," he promised. 

"Thank you," he said. Isaac handed the phone back to Allison.

"We'll be safe," Allison promised again.

"Okay. Just, remember, you can call me for anything. I'll be there."

"Thank you" she said softly, grateful for her dad. 

"I love you, Allison."

"Love you too, dad." Willing herself not to shed a tear, she gave the phone back to Isaac before relaying the information to the group.

"Mexico is a long way," Derek said, uncertain of it all. 

"Should we split up?" Stiles proposed. They still had to visit Derek's uncle, and now there was a lead on Kate too.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Lydia said at the same time Allison agreed with Stiles.

"We only have one phone, are we sure it's a good idea to branch off?" Derek  said. 

"Should we look into train tickets to Mexico?" Isaac proposed.

Suddenly, Stiles flashed a brilliant smile. "We can take my baby!" he exclaimed. At their startled faces, he let out a laugh. He waved them outside to the garage and as the door revealed his beat-up baby blue jeep, he whooped in delight. He hugged his jeep and said happily, "Good to see you, girl."

Isaac gave him a questioning look while Allison giggled lightly. 

"Are you sure it's gonna get us there," Lydia said skeptically, looking at the worn-out vehicle. 

"Don't question my baby," Stiles scolded.

"Please stop calling your car a baby," Isaac said flatly. 

"It'll save us money," Derek finally added. Out of all of them, Lydia, Allison and Stiles were the only ones able to access any sort of money beyond what they had in their pockets, and Stiles really didn't have that much to access. It would be unfair to the girls to fund their whole trip, so they agreed they could pitch for gas money. 

"Derek, we'll go visit your uncle, maybe one of us can stay with you, and the other three should head to the station to see if my dad can help us. Now that we know Kate's been in Mexico, maybe he can work off that lead," Stiles proposed.

They all agreed on that plan. Stiles started up the car and they threw their supplies and bags in the back before piling in. He expertly navigated the road, pulling up to the rehabilitation centre quickly. "This is it," he announced.

"I'll come with you," Lydia offered, not wanting to split the Apollo siblings.  Derek and Lydia hopped out, approaching the doors. 

"Ready?" she asked gently.

"Maybe," he grumbled, unsure about this.  She gave his arm a comforting squeeze before they entered as they saw the blue jeep drive off. 


	10. DAY SIX (Part 3): Son of Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to the station with Isaac and Allison, Derek heads to see his uncle with Lydia. Theories evolve...

Stiles

  
Stiles watched as Derek hesitated outside the door. He couldn't imagine what Derek was thinking, how he was feeling. Someone else survived the fire, and he hadn't known about it until now. What kind of a state would Peter be in? He hoped that Derek would be okay. 

He swallowed before driving them to the station, which didn't take long at all with the small town. Upon arrival, he felt more at ease than he had since leaving camp. This was familiar grounds to him, being in Beacon Hills, knowing where they were going. They hopped out of the jeep, Stiles holding the door open for them as they walked inside the station.

“Hey Parrish,” he greeted the man at the desk. 

“Hey Stiles, I thought your dad said you were at band camp,” Parrish returned. Allison and Isaac shared a look together. Playing instruments was not even remotely close to what they did at camp. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m attending for the summer, I just forgot a few things and the camp said it would alright to take a break, so I came to visit my dad!”

“Well that’s nice of them. So, what instrument did you pick up?”   


“Trumpet!” he blurted out, thinking of the Star Wars theme song. 

“Suits you,” Parrish commented. “Friends you made at camp?” he said, gesturing to the duo standing behind Stiles. 

“Yes! Sorry, this is Allison and that’s Isaac.”

“Huh,” Parrish said, nodding to Stiles’ story. “Let me guess, violin and... drums?”

Allison smiled widely, playing along. “Jeez, how’d you guess!” Parrish looked proud of himself.

“Your dad’s just finishing up in interrogation. You can wait outside.”

“Thanks!” Stiles waved at the deputy, quickly ushering Allison and Isaac along. Isaac didn’t bother hiding his smirk.    


"Shut up," he grumbled at them. 

They took a seat on the bench outside the sheriff's office, with Stiles occasionally chatting with the other deputies coming in and out of the station. 

"Stiles?"

"Hey, dad," he said, eagerly hopping off the bench. 

"Come in," John unlocked his office door, ushering the three of them inside. 

"Did you find something?" Stiles asked, picking up on his dad's urgency. 

"I did some digging," his dad started, opening his top drawer. "I went through the old files from the fire, I couldn't find a trace of evidence indicating someone had been there that night, and it's been too long for any signs to remain, but I did find something on Katherine."

They held their breath - if his dad also confirmed that she had been in Mexico, that would make their trip that much more important. 

"She traveled in and out of France a lot," he said. "Under the name Genevieve Beauchene." 

"France?" Stiles asked wondrously.  That's a long way from Mexico.

"My family was from France," Allison supplied. "That's where my mom met Chris before Chris' business expanded into the States and they moved here."

"Do you know what she could be doing there?" John asked.

Allison shrugged, racking her brain for any connection. "My grandparents on my mom's side still live there... Chris and I still visit from time-to-time but I don't think they've ever even met Kate."

Isaac then filled John in on what they'd heard from Chris. "He said Kate's last known location was Mexico."

"Mexico?" John asked before waving it off like he was sorry he'd asked. "This is rapidly becoming something much larger than what I thought it was. We've got a fire that's turned into a multiple-homicide arson case, a woman who's been travelling through France and possibly located in Mexico, and a runaway helmet, what am I missing?" 

Stiles sat there, trying to piece it together, but the dots just weren't connecting, words and images were just floating around in his mind. 

"Can I have a pen and paper, dad?" he asked. He was given the supplies before he started jotting down the things they knew, or at least thought they knew. Then, he grabbed a red pen from his dad's desk and drew a line connecting "Kate Argent" to "Hale fire" and scribbled "nine years" along the line. He paused before writing underneath "Motive?" and "Helm". When he had finished his connections, he looked at the paper and it began to make more sense to him.

"Okay, so Kate was there the night of the fire, but there was no evidence. We should also probably take into account she might had have help," he started. "We think the motive behind the fire was to target Derek, but we're not sure why. We also think she's after the Helm, so logically, it might mean that Derek had something to do with the Helm -"

"Oh my gods!" Allison suddenly exclaimed, making them all jump. "Hades! He's the son of Hades!" she said frantically. 

Isaac nodded, agreeing with the theory while Stiles put the puzzle pieces together. "Remember the way the Hellhounds didn't go after him in the Underworld? I think they could sense it, even if he didn't."

"Holy sh-"

"Stiles," his dad's warning tone cut him off.

"Holy schmoly," Stiles finished, with a pointed look at his dad. "That's gotta be it." He frantically scribbled "SON OF HADES" underneath Derek's name and underlined it. 

"Okay, so being the son of Hades has got to give him an edge, right? The Helm was made for Hades?" Stiles proposed. 

"It would only make sense," Isaac shrugged. 

John sighed loudly, and they all turned to him. He shook his head,and Stiles knew that look on his face. 

"Dad? What's wrong?"

John looked from face to face at the kids in front of him. How much more bad news could they receive? "If Derek was the one that Kate was after all those years ago..."

Stiles blanched. "She wasn't successful in her goal."

"If she hears that Derek's alive -" Isaac caught up. 

"- he's in danger," Allison finished.

"Dad, we gotta go," Stiles said, waving them all out.

"Be safe!" The sheriff hollered after their dust trail.  _ Please. _

  
  
\------------------------------    
Derek

 

“Hi there, what can I help you with?” the friendly receptionist greeted them. 

“Hi, I’m here to visit someone,” Derek said nervously, looking around the facility. There were people bustling about. 

“Sure, may I have the patient’s name?” 

“Peter Hale,” he responded, tongue heavy as he spoke. 

The receptionist typed for a moment before scrolling through the screen. She frowned slightly and typed something else.

“May I have your name, sir?” she asked.

“Derek Hale, I’m his nephew,” he added, worried something was wrong.

The receptionist furrowed her eyebrows. “It says here there no names listed as next of kin or even approved visitors,” she informed him. 

Derek inhaled sharply. Lydia put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, miss…” leaned forward to read the name badge. “Miss Samantha. My friend’s only just found out about his uncle’s condition. There was a terrible accident, and he’s only just finding out he has family left. Isn’t there anything we could do? If Peter perhaps recognized him?” 

The receptionist clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry ma'am, we can’t authorize any visitors unless they’re listed as family or on a list approved by the patient.”

“This doesn't make any sense,” Derek blurted out. “He’s my uncle. He was… We lived together. All of us.” He tried to think of any reasons his uncle would’ve kept his family from visiting. He laughed bitterly when he thought of an answer. 

“He thinks we’re all dead,” Derek bit out, clamping his lips together after. 

Lydia gave him a pained look. 

“That’s why there’s no list of family, he thinks we all died in the fire,” Derek said more confidently. That had to be it. 

“Ma’am, is there any way you could at least get a message to Peter?” Lydia pleaded. “If you could just let him know that Derek is here - that he survived the fire - maybe Peter would see that he has family left. Give him hope, it might help him.” 

Samantha looked at them, clearly sympathizing. “I’ll see what I can do. Please, have a seat,” she gestured to the chairs. 

They took their seats, Derek bouncing his leg up and down. Lydia could see how tense his shoulders were, how spaced out his gaze was.

"Don't worry," Lydia said as soothingly as possible. "Your uncle will want to see you, we just have to sort this out." Derek nodded, trying to believe in her words. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the receptionist came back. "Sir, your uncle is ready to see you," she said with a warm smile. 

"I'll wait here," Lydia said, encouraging him to go. Derek looked like he was going to protest, but Lydia shooed him off. "I'll be right here," she promised.

The receptionist had a worker escort him to his uncle's room. "My name is Sven, I've been working with your uncle the past few months," he offered his hand.

Derek shook it. "Thank you." He wanted to say more but his stomach was in knots. What if his uncle didn't recognize him? What if he blamed Derek for the death of his family? 

"His body is taking a while to heal," Sven informed him as they rounded the corner. "There were very severe burns on his body and there was a lot of damage to his nerves. Most days he can't do more than eat and speak a few words, so try not to push him too hard." They stopped just outside the door 301. "And just to warn you, Peter's had several skin grafts but, again, the damage was extensive. Please...refrain from reacting in any way when you see him," he said gently. 

Derek nodded, letting the words sink in. He couldn't imagine the pain his uncle had gone through.

Sven opened the door for him, letting him  step inside the dingy white room's foyer."I'll give you two some privacy," Sven said, closing the door behind Derek. 

Derek took a deep breath and took a few more steps to reveal the rest of the room. There was a window in one wall and the bed in the far corner. Underneath the window,  he saw the back of a man, sitting in a wheelchair. 

"Peter," Derek's voice croaked. The man in the wheelchair made a noise, but Derek couldn't distinguish what it was. He moved closer.

"It's me," he whispered, reaching the bed. He sat down, which would make him face Peter. Upon seeing Peter's face, he had to stop himself from gasping out loud. The skin was peeling in places, red and angry underneath.  It was the same all over his body, from what Derek could see. The skin was mottled with burns all the way down his neck to the rim of Peter's white t-shirt, and appeared even deeper as Derek looked at Peter's arms. 

"Peter, I'm... Gods, Peter, I'm so sorry," Derek said, uncaring that a tear had escaped him. "I'm so sorry." He let himself break down now that he'd come face-to-face with the irreparable damage he'd caused his family. 

"Der-ek," Peter's voice came out raspy. 

Derek forced himself to make eye contact with his uncle. The blue eyes that stared back were still bright as he remembered, no trace of resentment could be found. 

"I'm sorry, uncle," Derek repeated. Peter closed his eyes and made small movements to shake his head. 

"Passss."  Derek thought he was trying to say "it's in the past" or something along those lines. 

"I was so happy to find out that you had made it out of the fire," he began. He wanted to give Peter good news, but thought of Laura and how she would never know about Peter's escape. "Cora is in the foster system," he told Peter. "She was so young, and neither Laura and I were legal to take custody. Laura and I... something happened to us," he said carefully. He wasn't sure if his mom had ever told Peter  about their background. "Laura made it out too, but... she passed away a few years ago," Derek admitted. 

Peter made a sound in his throat that resembled a whine. He had always been very close with Laura, he had taught her self-defense and Peter often took them to the park to play soccer, basketball, or pretty much any sport they wanted as children.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” he apologized again. He felt like he couldn’t apologize enough. “This is all my fault, and I’m so sorry I didn’t come back sooner… I swear, had I known -”

“C’ere.” Come here? Derek tentatively sat forward on the edge of the bed, inching towards Peter slowly. 

Peter’s mouth twitched, and Derek could’ve sworn the corners of his mouth flicked upward in an attempt to smile. 

He watched as Peter studied him, eyes tracing over his face. Peter’s right hand trembled around the grip he had on the wheelchair. He raised his forefinger and thumb, and Derek didn’t understand.

“Han… Han…” Peter tried. 

_Hand?_ Derek reached for Peter’s hand, gently lifting his hand off the armrest, holding it softly to avoid hurting Peter. 

Peter closed his eyes and it bobbed as though he was nodding. Derek felt Peter’s cold fingers wrap around his own. Derek sniffled, thanking all the gods that he got the chance to see his uncle, that he was alive, right here in front of him. 

“I promise, I’ll visit you,” Derek said. 

Peter managed a half-nod and hummed in approval. “Te-Teh mm wha ha.. ha,” Peter exhaled, clearly frustrated at himself for being unable to communicate properly. Derek thought it might have been an attempt to ask what happened in the fire.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” Derek started again, but Peter shook his head. That’s not what he meant.

“Or ah,” Peter sounded. He pointed at Derek with a finger and then straightened his hand and raised it a couple of inches. “Hor-Ah,” he tried again.

_ Laura!  _ Derek understood finally. “Laura…” he didn’t know how to describe what happened without involving the camp somehow. He didn’t want to put his uncle in any more risk, given their circumstances. “She… Went to help some friends with something they needed. There was an accident, and she was hurt really badly. They weren’t able to save her,” he settled on. There technically wasn’t a lie in there, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“He… when… que-ques-quesssss,” Peter struggled. 

Derek’s heart stopped for a moment. Did Peter know about the quests? He decided to play it safe. He smiled at Peter. “Yeah, you could say she was on a bit of a quest,” he said smoothly.

Peter’s eyes didn’t reveal anything, but there was a trace of a smile on his face. “Ca- Camp Hah- Puh.”

There it was. Peter  _ did  _ know about Camp Half-Blood. Derek just nodded, and that was all Peter needed. 

“Hor-Ah,” he said again.

“What about Laura?” Derek asked.

Peter licked his lips and took his time. Closing his eyes to concentrate his efforts.  “Brr-Rraaave,” he managed. He swallowed thickly, and Derek knew that it had taken a lot out of him to enunciate as he did.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “She was.” 

 

\------------------------------    
Stiles

 

Stiles, Allison and Isaac burst through the doors of the facilitation. 

In a span of three seconds, the receptionist went to call security while Lydia stood up and tried to calm everyone down. She stared at them, willing them to just slow down. 

"What has gotten into you guys?" she asked, still eyeing the receptionist in case she picked the phone up again.

"I don't have time for this," Stiles said, starting to rush off before Lydia's arm knocked the wind out of him as she held him back.

"You underestimate the security. What do you need?"

"I _need_  to talk to Derek," Stiles said urgently.

"We'll get a message to him, then you're going to explain yourselves," she said sternly. She went to the desk and with her signature sweet smile, she spoke with the receptionist for a bit before the receptionist picked up the phone. Then, Lydia walked back to them with a panic in her eyes.

"Okay, what the hell happened?"

"We think Derek is the son of Hades!" Stiles blurted out. He thrust the mind map that he'd drawn back at the station. "I was trying to think of Kate's motive to kill Derek's family, and after what my dad saw when you were using Charmspeak, Kate had to have been after the Helm. It could only mean that Derek has something to do with the Helm."

"That's a good theory, it works with what we know about him... His godly parent was a male, he hasn't shown affinity for any particular activities at camp which makes sense since we don't really have any geared for Hades' children..." Stiles could see the wheels turning in Lydia's head.

"Problem is, she didn't finish the job," Isaac stepped in. 

"Shit," Lydia swore under her breath. 

 

\------------------------------    
Derek

 

There was a knock on Peter's door, which interrupted Derek's story about the friend's he'd made at camp. 

"Sir, your friends are requesting you to meet them immediately."

Derek's heart dropped - he imagined the worst, given how dangerous this quest was turning out to be. He rushed back to Peter.

"Hey, I'm really sorry, Peter, I've gotta get going..." He watched as Peter nodded in understanding, his eyes still shining. 

"Sssee hoo hoooon?" 

Derek smiled at him. "Yeah, I'll see you soon. I promise." He grasped his uncle's hands one more time before getting up, wiping the tears from his eyes. He hated leaving his uncle like this, but his friends could be in danger. 

He vowed he would make it back, and went with the orderly. 

 

\------------------------------    
Stiles

 

He saw Derek and the orderly turn the corner, and realized something.

"Guys, let's keep this speculation to ourselves for now," he whispered. They nodded in agreement. It went without saying that they really shouldn't be giving Derek any information that may be false, lest he be claimed by another god. Furthermore, if he found out that he was the sole reason for his family being killed, it could be disastrous for him, he already carried so much guilt. It was best to let Derek think that Kate was just sadistic or had some other reason. 

"What's going on?" Derek asked as soon as he approached.

"Derek, I'm so sorry for cutting into your time with Peter," Stiles started. "We have a few leads to go on. We'll explain in the car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the patience and for continuing to support this story. I'd really appreciate any feedback, and I love you all so much!!!!


	11. DAY SIX (Part 4): Motel Glen Capri

Stiles headed for the free-way, Derek in the passenger seat and the three slimmer  bodies in the back. He tried to gauge Derek’s feelings, glancing at him in his peripheral vision. He had little luck, with Derek keeping his face blank, and not offering to talk about it either. As much as he wanted to, he knew it was absolutely not his place to ask about what happened with Peter. Instead, he started with what they had come to at the station - minus their theory about Derek’s heritage. 

“Why France?” Derek asked.

“That’s what we’re wondering too,” Allison replied. “I do have some family there, but I don’t think they've ever even met Kate.”

“Should we call them?” Derek suggested.

Allison nodded, “Yeah, let me get the number!” As Allison’s used Isaac’s phone again, Stiles used the distraction to catch Derek’s eye. 

He mouthed “are you okay” to Derek, with what he hoped looked like concern. Derek just smiled at him and gave a slight nod.  _ Phwew.  _ Stiles was happy - really happy, because it meant that the meeting had gone well, and he knew how much Derek needed, and valued, family in his life. Derek tapped Stiles’ hand that was resting across the middle console

“Thank you,” Derek whispered, quietly enough that only Stiles could hear over Allison’s voice. Stiles smiled so wide he could’ve broken his jaw. He felt great. Maybe this quest was meant to also bring out some good. 

“So my grandparents said they had never met Kate, though they’d told Chris numerous times that she was more than welcome to join him on visits.”   
  
“Well there goes that lead,” Stiles said, bummed out that one of their leads already hit a dead end. 

“Don’t count it out just yet,” Lydia cautioned. “Sometimes things are not as they seem.”

“I agree,” Derek chimed in. “It’s too coincidental. I think taking a look into your family’s history and connections in France may help.”

“Definitely,” Allison said, determined.

“In the meantime, we can focus on the Mexico lead,” Isaac offered, trying to lift Stiles’ spirit. 

And so they drove with the windows down, hot summer air whipping past them as they headed south-east for Mexico. 

By the time they arrived at Arizona, they all had needed something to attend to. Allison was on the phone again with her dad, explaining that they  _ may or may not  _ be headed to Mexico and that  _ no, they weren’t in danger.  _ She then asked her dad about some of their family history. Derek had needed to stretch his legs, too used to being up and about throughout the day (or kicking ass in the sparring ring, as Stiles interpreted). Lydia needed to fix her make-up and use the bathroom, and Isaac needed to top up his phone with some money. Everyone, except Derek, had their debit cards had to make some withdrawals from the ATM. It was a risk, being traced to this location, but it was better to do it here and be long gone by the time anyone could swing by. Hopefully, they’d be in Mexico by then. Stiles sent him to also pick up some Tylenol and chocolate for his headache. He took out his notes again and quickly scribbled “family history?” under “Allison” which he then connected with an arrow to Kate. Putting it back in his pocket, he went to fill up his tank. The sun was still shining brightly, Stiles figured they could probably make it fairly close to the border of Mexico before they had to stop for the night. 

“You okay?”

Stiles jumped at Derek’s voice, forgetting how stealthy the man could be. 

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles responded. “What about you? How was… everything,” he said lamely, trying to reign in his lack of brain-to-mouth filter. 

“It was okay,” Derek said placidly. Stiles waited for Derek to elaborate - he was feeling anxious just trying to read Derek’s mind. He couldn’t help but worry about Derek; he’d been alone in that big cabin most of his life, never knew who his father was, and had mostly just been living day-by-day. This could be a whole new beginning for him!

“Stiles,” Derek said. 

“Hm?”

“Stop worrying,” Derek said calmly, placing his hands heavy on Stiles’ shoulder to stop the younger man from bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m fine, I promise. I just… Need some time to process everything. I’m just not ready to talk about it just yet. Okay?”

Stiles nodded, feeling a bit calmer. Derek seemed okay, which was good enough for now. From what he knew, Derek didn’t talk much as it was, he knew it would take some time for Derek to open up. 

“Okay,” he responded, as he mourned the loss of Derek’s hands on him.    


Isaac appeared, Tylenol in hand, to which Stiles could almost kiss him for.

"Are you sure you don't want some Ambrosia?" Isaac asked, handing over the pills.

"Nah, nothing some good ol' fashioned Tylenol can't handle," Stiles said, gulping it down with some water. Lydia appeared a moment later, looking absolutely pristine, not a hair out of place. 

"Where's Allison?"

"She was still on the phone," Lydia informed them. "But she didn't sound very happy."

On cue, Allison stormed towards them, mouth set in a firm line. 

"What's wrong?" Isaac asked immediately. 

"My dad gave me all the information, but their line's not working, like it's been cut. I called my dad back and said he must've given me the wrong number, but he said he had spoken to them just last week on the same number!"

"Something's wrong," Derek said under his breath. 

Stiles nodded in agreement. This whole thing was wrong. 

Allison exhaled deeply. "My dad's already on his way there."

Stiles and Derek turned sharply to look toward her, even Isaac looked on anxiously. "Wait, what?" Stiles said intelligibly.

"He refused to stay out of it. He was always very close to my mom's side of the family. The only family of his own he has left is his dad, and he was diagnosed with schizophrenia a few years back. You guys have to understand, my dad would do anything for family, there's no way I could've stopped him."

"What if he gets hurt?" Stiles asked worriedly.

"Oh, that man can definitely handle himself," Isaac threw out there. He'd seen Chris' arsenal. 

Allison nodded. "Isaac's right. My dad can handle himself. This might even be a good thing, we can't be in two places at once,and we can catch up with him later."

"How exactly are we getting to France?" Derek asked. 

"Let's worry about that when we get there," Stiles said, unwilling to face any more curve balls at the time. "We've gotta get a move on if we wanna make up some ground. I figure we could at least reach the border before we have to find a place to stay."

"What are we waiting for," Lydia chimed, climbing into the back of the Jeep.  
  


\--------------------------  
  


"This is a new low," Isaac mumbled eyeing the motel they'd come across. They were almost to the border, and this was the last motel they'd have a chance to stop at for some time. 

"Isaac's right... it's a little, run-down?" Allison agreed.

Lydia, was so horrified she hadn't said a word. 

"It'll... do," Derek managed, trying to make Stiles feel better.

It really was the best they could do on such short notice with no planning and very little cash. 

"It's only for a night, guys," Stiles attempted. He made a move for the door, and stepped through the door, opening it with a loud squeal. The inside was almost as bad as the outside, the white paint was peeling off the walls, revealing bare wood. The welcome mat was so dirty, Stiles couldn't tell what colour it had originally been.Behind the desk was an elderly woman, whose eyes were too wide for her face, and her white curls sprung out from her head without any direction. There was a placard behind her that read “198”. 

"Welcome, my dears, are you looking to stay a few nights?" she asked in a sweet voice, though her unblinking stare unnerved Stiles. 

"Er, just one," Stiles told her.

"Oh how lovely!" she exclaimed, the loudness of her voice making Stiles jump back a bit. He was only comforted when his back hit the brick wall that was Derek's chest. "How many rooms?" she asked with a lick of her lips. 

_ Okay, this was creepy - waaaay creepy. _

"I'll take a single room for myself," Lydia piped up, stepping forward, as though sensing Stiles' discomfort. "We don't have a choice, unless you want to sleep in your car," Lydia hissed as she sashayed past him to the counter. The old lady handed her a key, with a room number tab and took Lydia's cash with a wide smile.

"Who else!" She hollered, eyeing the rest of them.

"We'll take a double room," Allison said slowly, paying for her and Isaac's room. 

Stiles pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, calculating how much he could afford if he paid for a room by himself. 

"If we share, it'll save us a bit," Derek offered, and Gods, Stiles could hug the man. He nodded in agreement.

"Good idea, I really can't afford to drop money," Stiles said hastily. 

"A single then?" The old lady offered. 

"Er, a double, please," Stiles squawked. Lydia hid behind Allison so Stiles' couldn't catch her grin, but that didn't stop Derek from cocking an eyebrow at her. 

"Well, if you insist," the lady said, dropping a key in Stiles' outstretched hand. "Sorry lovelies, but we've no help to get your bags so you'll have to bring them up yourselves," she said apologetically.

"That's okay," Allison chirped, eager to get away from the lady's incredibly ability to go without blinking.

"Well sleep tight dearies,  _ DON'T LET THE BEDBUGS BITE _ !" she cackled to herself before turning around to go through some mail. They quickly made their way up the rickety old stairs, leading them into a dim-lit hallway, plastered with wallpaper that had long since lost its colour. It was peeling and scratches in a few places and there were definitely lights that had not received a light bulb change in some time. They ignored the cobwebs in the corners and found their respective rooms. Derek and Stiles were across from Lydia, who in turn was beside Allison and Isaac. At least they were all close by. There was a continuous light bang-bang noise that could be heard in the hallways, made by the old-fashioned heaters on the walls. 

"Stay safe," Stiles warned. "I'm getting serious heebie-jeebies about this place."

"We will," Allison promised, opening the door to their room, Isaac following behind her.

"Night guys," Lydia yawned, retiring to her own room. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNN. This chapter/next chapter are going to be heavily based off of the episode "Hotel California" (season 2 episode 6, I think???). While this is a Percy Jackson AU and a lot of things you encounter in this story are Greek mythology, I have also thrown a lot of elements from Teen Wolf in here as well, so don't be surprised at some of the characters/creatures you'll see!!! :) As always, I appreciate your support for this story. XO.
> 
> stay tuned for some hotel fun ;)


	12. DAY SIX (Part 5): Derek and Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! just smush already, guys.

Derek opened their room and placed his things on the bed closest to the window, leaving Stiles the bed closer to the closet.

Stiles had felt exhausted prior to this, but now that he had a peaceful moment to digest what was happening, he was too jittery.

"Stiles, you should really get some rest," Derek said calmly, propping himself on the pillows of his bed, legs stretched out in front of him.

"I can't, it's like... It's like my mind is going to explode!"

"You're wearing the carpet down."

Stiles looked at him incredulously. The carpet was so worn out already, it wouldn't have made a damn difference! Then he noticed the smirk on Derek's face, and suddenly, that was the only thing Stiles could see. He pushed the thoughts of the quest and Kate out of his mind, focusing on the man in front of him.

"I think... Peter was actually happy to see me," Derek said softly, gaze on the off-white sheets in front of him.

Stiles wanted to smack the guy. "Of course he would be!"

Derek snorted dryly. "I thought he would've blamed me," Derek admitted, and Stiles had never heard Derek sound so small.

"Derek... You thought you lost your whole family that night too, how did you feel?" Stiles asked, trying to make him understand Peter's point of view. "You knew that Laura and Cora got out alive, and you were still devastated, but Peter…”

Derek had closed his eyes, and Stiles was afraid that he'd overstepped a line.

"You're right." There was a thud as Derek let his head drop back against headboard.

"I'm sorry Derek, I didn't mean to -"

"No, it's okay. You're right. I was so wrapped up in how I felt, and all these years I thought about what my family would say if they ever saw me, if they knew it was me."

"They wouldn't blame you, Derek."

"I would've. I always assumed they would've too. It's been such a long time..."

"He's just glad you're alive," Stiles said firmly, positive that he was right.

Derek nodded. "We didn't get to speak much. He had a lot of damage done to his vocal chords, so I had to guess what he was saying for the most part. I told him about Laura," Derek trailed off, probably blaming himself again.

"I'm sure he was happy to know she made it out too," Stiles said, sinking himself into Derek's bed. He placed his hand on Derek's knee, just to let him know what his words couldn't say.

"I think he knows about us," Derek said, unsure. "About camp. I wasn't sure at first, but when I mentioned Laura, I told him she had passed helping out some friends and he asked if it was a quest."

Stiles was no longer surprised. "Maybe your mom told him the truth?"

"It's possible, our family was very close," Derek pondered. "I went along with it, but he definitely said something that sounded like Camp Half-Blood.... And it just makes me feel like he knows more. But I couldn't push him to talk, they say he's still healing."

Stiles nodded in sympathy. "I know this must be hard - so hard - for you." And he knew it wasn't enough, his words, as they hung in the air. He knew Derek was going through emotional hell, and it tore him up inside to see Derek go through it. He deserved so much better. "I know the Prophecy basically called you out, but I hope you know I'm really grateful you accepted and risked your neck to come with me."

Derek sat in silence for a moment. "I..."

"And I want you to know that I would be absolutely lost without you. We really needed you, Derek. And I'm sorry for what we've put you through."

Derek stared at him like he was the strangest being in the world (which, he could've been, but that wasn't the point). "You're... welcome?"

"Why are you questioning that?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "I don't do this whole -" he waved his hand between the two of them back and forth "-grateful thing. But, I'm grateful for this too, Stiles."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah," Derek said, counting his fingers. "I've finally gotten in touch with my uncle, who I didn't even know was alive. I've finally left camp for the first time in years..."

Stiles waited for him to go on.

"And I've been able to spend more time with you," Derek said softly.

Stiles couldn't help the smile that overtook his face. "I'm gonna hug you now," he claimed. Without waiting for Derek's response (or permission), he went ahead and flung himself into Derek's side, wrapping his arm around Derek's torso and closing his eyes to remember this moment. The feeling of safety amongst the chaos, the scent of Derek beside him, the warmth of their bodies in the Arizona heat as the fan spun lazily above them, the silence that meant a thousand words.

Somehow Stiles knew they'd be okay.

"Thanks," he said simply into Derek's side.

"For what?"

"For being here," Stiles said simply. "For being you." _I needed you_ , he wanted to say, but he figured Derek could already tell.

Derek brought his hand around Stiles' shoulders. It dawned on Stiles that he never got to talk to Derek about what happened at camp, as he had intended to before Malia had come to them and spooked the whole camp.

"Hey Derek?"

"Mm?"

Stiles lifted himself enough to see that Derek had, at some point, closed his eyes. The man peered down at Stiles, cracking one eye open.

"I... wanted to talk to you, about what happened at camp," Stiles started. He felt Derek tense beside him, and it make him anxious to begin. He lifted himself, regrettably, away from Derek and faced him instead opting to lean on his arm. He looked at Derek, trying to read his facial expression with no luck.

"I wanted to talk to you about it a long time ago, but the day after, Malia... Well, you know how that all went down. Anyway, we just really haven't had the time, but I just wanted you to know that I would've stayed," Stiles said as quickly as possible. "You made me feel safe, and didn't think I was a complete moron when I had my panic attacks and you kinda saved my life on a few occasions and I really sucked at thanking you for all that -"

"-Stiles"

"-and what we did, I was just wondering if you were cool with that, or if it was like, a one-time thing, which that's fine, if you want but -"

"- _Stiles_ "

Stiles blinked, mouth open to barf out more words before he realized in the time that he was talking, Derek had leaned forward and had grabbed Stiles' arm.

"I-"

"- **_Stiles._ ** "

"Yes." He instantly snapped his mouth together.

"I don't know," Derek said, as if it were that simple.

Stiles tried his best not to let his disappointment show - some part of him had prepared him for this. He'd convinced himself that they wouldn't be sharing a cabin again, that Derek had comforted him but  it was out of responsibility, that Derek was lonely or bored. But it stung, deep down. He'd really begun caring for Derek in the short time they'd been together. Obviously, he'd be getting ahead of himself if he was going to say that he and Derek should get together immediately, it'd only been a week, but he couldn't help but feel something more, like maybe they could be good for each other.

"Look at me." Derek waited for Stiles' eyes to finally make contact with his again. He knew it wasn't the answer Stiles wanted to hear, but he was in no position to get involved with anyone. "Listen to me, and trust me, when I say this," he said seriously. "It's not you."

"Please don't do the it's-not-you-it's-me thing," Stiles groaned.

Derek huffed. "I'm just saying Stiles, that I'm not sure what's best for me right now. There's a lot going on, and it's not just for me, it's for you too. Look at what's happened to us so far. Your dad was attacked, your house got destroyed, I've just found out that my uncle, albeit alive, was so severely burned he can't even talk and that Allison is absolutely related to the woman who burned my family alive."

"Well, when you say it like that..."

Derek gave a weak smile. "I'm not saying no, Stiles."

Stiles perked up again at this.

"I'm just saying maybe it's not the best time. For either of us."

Stiles tried to nod, but his mind felt a little numb. "Yeah, okay."

"Stiles, look at me." Derek's eyes were open and honest, ploring Stiles to see he was genuine. "I care about you, I really do, but amidst all this.... I just want to make sure that we can both talk about this later, during a time when we're both thinking clearly. This deserves our full attention."

When he said it like that, it made Stiles more compelled to wait, which was saying a tremendous amount. He was like a child when it came to self-restraint and instant gratification. But for Derek? He'd wait for Derek. He'd wait as long as he needed.

"Fair?" Derek asked.

"Fair," Stiles sincerely agreed.

"Come here," Derek said, and Stiles could've imagined it but Derek’s voice sounded husky and it did things to Stiles that he'd be too ashamed to admit. But he did crawl closer to Derek, and met his lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

"I take it back, it's not fair," Stiles mumbled against Derek's lips. "Not fair at all," and before he could help himself, he greedily stole another kiss. He felt the soft puff of Derek's laugh against his lips and the curve of Derek's smile in their kiss.

He felt Derek pull him forward, which ended up with Stiles splayed on Derek's chest, legs on either side of him. He could feel the warmth of Derek's hands on his back through his shirt, and silently urged him to go further.

He wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pulling him closer still, wanting to feel nothing except Derek all around him.

"Stiles," Derek's voice was a hushed whisper, hands tentatively resting on Stiles' hips.

"You can stop me, if you want," Stiles said, feeling particularly brave (or riled up). "It may be too soon to get into anything, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, and it doesn't mean I don't want this,” he continued, pulling away just long enough to take his shirt off. The room was poorly lit, but he could see the golden flecks in Derek's eyes watching him.

Derek's answer came in the way he pulled Stiles closer to his chest, one arm around the lithe boy's waist, another cupping his neck. He loved seeing Stiles' lips, swollen and red against his alabaster skin. It was evident where they wanted this to go, Stiles rocking back on forth on Derek's lap. He felt Derek nuzzling his neck, nipping at the flesh.

He let his hands wander Derek's body just as he'd constantly imagined. The hard muscle underneath was a definite turn-on, as he dug his fingers into flesh, trying to convey his urgency to Derek. He was pulled in by Derek's arm so they were practically plastered together. It was so easy to get lost in Derek, in the way his hands moved slowly across Stiles'  skin under his shirt as if he was trying to slow down time.

"I want to do something for you," Stiles said in a hushed tone, breathing heavy. Derek looked up at him, eyes studying Stiles' face as though searching for something. Taking Derek's silence as a "SURE, STILES", he planted a long trail of kisses across Derek's jaw and neck, feeling Derek's beard tickle his own smooth skin. He licked at Derek’s collarbone, which earned him a low hiss, and Stiles felt the muscles underneath him tense, and revelled in the way he was making Derek respond. He tugged at Derek's shirt, indicating he wanted to tear it off, and Derek, thank Gods, obliged. He leaned forward away from the headboard, lifting the shirt above him and flinging it to the ground. Stiles went to continue his ministrations but Derek tugged Stiles' shirt up as well.

Blushing, Stiles let him continue and shivered as their bare torsos touched. With another searing kiss, Stiles nudged Derek back. Their weight dropped, making the wooden board clack against the wall behind, and Stiles felt a burning desire stronger than he'd ever felt before. Picking up the pace, he crawled from Derek's lap, making his way further down Derek's body. He let his fingers wander over Derek's abs, tracing the hard lines that seemed chiseled in Derek's body, mouth appreciating every single bit. When he reached the hem of Derek's pants, he yanked the button open, tugging at the material. When Derek raised his hips from the bed, Stiles wasted no time in stripping him of both his pants and boxers, leaving him completely bare. He'd never been with anyone, so he really didn't know what he was supposed to do. What he _did_ know was that he wanted to worship Derek's cock in at least seven hundred and sixty three ways. Stiles was flushed with want, looking at Derek, erect and twitching with anticipation.

He should feel vulnerable, naked and on display for Stiles, but he was powerless to stop the young man. Instead, he let Stiles worm his way down, until Stiles was nestled between his legs, eyeing his cock with such wide eyes, he wasn't sure if Stiles was going to do anything else. When he saw Stiles reach out and wrap his slender, long fingers around the base, he inhaled sharply. It'd been awhile since he felt someone else's touch bring him pleasure.

“Stiles,” he breathed, closing his eyes to calm himself down. How embarrassing would it be to blow his load already. They were, however, flying open the next second to witness Stiles wrapping his lips around the head of his cock.

There was so much to take in at once - the warm, wet sensation around his cock, the way Stiles' eyelashes fluttered with each bob of his head, the hand beneath the base of cock, fondling his balls. He took a deep breath, legs quivering slightly as Stiles grew more confident. He felt Stiles' tongue flick across his slit, swirling around the head of his cock before dragging it all the way down his shaft, suckling each ball.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. He had come close, before Stiles'  slowed down, eyes peering up at Derek.

"Should I keep going?"

Derek could kick the guy in his face. "Gods, yes," he managed, scooting to sit up a bit, legs bent at the knee. He loved bracketing Stiles with his legs, and took Stiles' face in his hands. With a messy kiss, he bit at Stiles' bottom lip, eliciting a moan from the freckled man. It seemed to give Stiles all the motivation he needed to continue his mission, slurping noisily around Derek's cock before taking it in his mouth again, going deeper than before. Derek clenched the sheets around him to maintain some control before Stiles grabbed a wrist, tugging Derek's hand so it rested in his hair.

"Shit, Stiles," Derek gasped, taking a fistful of hair right away. Stiles moaned around his cock, vibrations shooting all the way down his shaft.. He soon took his other hand to Stiles' hair, tugging just the slightest bit to urge Stiles' down further on his cock. Stiles' finger made up for what Stiles' couldn't take in his mouth, and soon, Derek's toes curled as he tried to ease Stiles' off his cock.

"Stiles, I'm gonna come," Derek said hastily, lifting Stiles' head off.

"Wanna taste you," Stiles replied simply, as he kept his pace.

 _FUCK._ The combination of Stiles' efforts and Derek's reaction to Stiles' words was enough to make him unload, spurting his come down Stiles' throat.A choked sound escaped his throat as he felt his body shudder through his climax. Stiles stayed still before slowly dragging his mouth off of Derek's dick with a small 'pop' as he gathered as much of Derek's mess as he could. He visibly swallowed, which made Derek think he could almost go for a second round. He pulled Stiles toward him, with plans of jerking Stiles off before he noticed that Stiles was no longer hard. He eyed Stiles curiously, worried at first that Stiles hadn't enjoyed himself at all.

Sheepishly, Stiles just moved to the side so Derek could see the mess he'd made in the sheets, coming into the sheets as he sucked Derek off.

Stiles, being Stiles, shot a goofy smile at Derek. "I liked that. A lot"

Derek just sank into the bed, his body feeling like jelly, and laid an arm across his face before he laughed at Stiles'. Only he would be such a goof ball after sex.

"Let's move to the other bed," Stiles suggested, pulling Derek's arm with him. Derek obliged, letting Stiles pull him close in the clean sheets of the second bed.

It'd been awhile since he felt this at peace. All in all, this quest hadn't necessarily turned out to be a bad thing for him, with the exception of Scott's death. He'd grown closer to people at camp he never thought he would've, he'd discovered family that he thought was long gone, and he'd found Stiles, which brought him a glimmer of hope. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was too good to be true. This quest wasn't about rebuilding his life outside of camp, so why was this happening? It was too good to be true, and quests never ended happily without consequence. He struggled trying to be optimistic, but he wanted Stiles to be confident, not afraid. He looked at the young man in his arms, eyes closed and face serene. Everything that Derek said was the truth - that he really didn't they could discuss this right now given all that's happened. But, one day, could they find the time for each other? He hoped so, but there was no point in discussing such things. He listened as Stiles' breathing slowed, and eventually fell asleep with Stiles tucked in closely to his side.  



	13. DAY SEVEN (Part 1): Losing Lydia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I DON'T SPEAK SPANISH)  
> (I USED GOOGLE)  
> (I'M SORRY)
> 
> next few chapters are really coming together!

A piercing scream came through the ear, making Derek jump out of bed. Stiles fumble in the sheets before dropping off the bed's side. Derek saw his head pop up a moment later. 

"What - who?"

"Lydia," Derek said confidently, throwing on his underwear and pants from last night. He bolted through the door before Stiles could even fully comprehend what had happened. 

"Lydia!" Derek called, pounding on her door. 

Stiles tripped into the hallway, clothes haphazardly thrown on as Allison and Isaac came stumbling out of their door at the same time.

"What's going on?" Isaac asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

"Lydia!" Derek cried again as he slammed his fist to the door. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. “No response.”

“Is Lydia in trouble?” Allison asked, feeling left out. 

"Didn't you hear her scream?" he asked, looking at them incredulously.

The three shared an uneasy look. "What are you talking about?" Allison probed. 

"She screamed, it was so loud I heard it from our room," Derek said, eyebrows furrowing. This didn't make any sense.

"Okay, regardless," Stiles stepped in. "She's not answering her door. I think something's wrong."

"I'm breaking the door down," Derek proclaimed. 

"Whoa, what?" Stiles was pretty sure they didn't have the money to cover those damages. "Maybe you wanna refrain from property damage?" 

"What if she needs us  _ right now _ ?" Derek said, the feeling of helplessness upon him once again. He hadn't gone back for his family in the fire, and he'd lost them. There was no way in hell he was going to stand by and wait for something to happen to Lydia too. Every second mattered. 

"I'll go on the roof and see if I can get in her window," Allison volunteered. 

"Stiles and I will go downstairs to see if the lady can give us a spare key to her room," Isaac offered.

"Fine" Derek said grudgingly. "But if you guys aren't back in five minutes, I'm breaking down the door."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but turned to head downstairs with Isaac. 

"Did you hear anything earlier?" Isaac asked Stiles as they flew down the steps.

Stiles shook his head. He thought it was really weird that Derek was the only one to hear this supposed scream, and knew that Isaac was thinking the same thing. 

"I don't know... I'm a deep sleeper?" Stiles tried. Isaac definitely wasn't buying it. When they reached the front desk, nobody was there. 

"Hello!" Stiles shouted, hoping the old lady would come out one of the doors leading back to where they couldn't see.  "We need help!" 

They strained to listen for any signs of someone coming, but couldn't hear a thing. Stiles even went to ring the rust little bell that sat on the desk. Nothing.

“Should we…” Before Stiles could finish his sentence, Isaac already hopped over the desk, rummaging in the cupboards that held the keys. 

“Isaac!” Stiles hissed at him, looking around for any cameras. He did  _ not  _ want to go to jail. 

“I don’t see any extra keys…” 

“ _ Not  _ what I meant!”

“There’s only four keys missing,” Isaac added.  The math was obvious. 

“So there’s one other guest as well?” Stiles concluded. 

“I guess so. They’re probably wondering what the hell all the noise is all about.”

“Come on, let’s just get back to Derek before he actually rips the door off its hinges,” Stiles urged. 

“Maybe Allison found a way in,” Isaac said hopefully.

They turned to jog upstairs before colliding into Derek and Allison, arms full of their belongings.

“What the -”

“Get to the car,” Derek snapped, face as serious as Stiles has ever seen it. 

“Not until you tell us what happened,” Stiles challenged. Derek looked ready to murder someone. 

“There’s a body hanging in Lydia’s room, and Lydia’s missing, so _ move it _ .”

Stiles was dumbstruck. Allison handed Isaac his bag before urging him to turn around. “We need to get out of here.” Isaac’s face had drained of all colour before he quickly nodded, tugging at Stiles’ arm.

“You guys go,” Stiles ordered.

“Are you crazy?” Allison shrieked. “There’s a  _ dead body _ in there, we need to get out of here!”

“What about Lydia?” Stiles cried. “Where are we going to find her? I should at least see if there are any clues!” 

“You guys, get the car ready,” Derek said gruffly, passing all the bags he had looped around his arms. “I’m not letting you go alone,” Derek said in a tone that absolutely shut down any argument from Stiles. He led the way, Stiles trailing behind him.

“Derek, you didn’t have to -”

Derek whirled around, and Stiles was honestly afraid. He’d never seen Derek so angry, and they’d been through a lot.

“Stiles, this isn’t a game. This is a dead body, a complete stranger, hanging from the ceiling.”

He knew what Derek’s tone meant. The worry in his voice was evident, and even though Derek was angry, he knew it was for his own good. He wasn’t necessarily ready, but the thought of Lydia being taken was ruling over his fear for now. He would just have to risk having a panic attack.

“I’m right here,” Derek said, as he led Stiles into the room. It was dimly lit like theirs had been, and bare of any sign of Lydia as Derek and Allison had grabbed her bags. Stiles had purposely avoided looking at the centre of the room and tried to pick out any details. Then, he saw the feet. They were hanging right in front of the foot of the bed, and Stiles couldn’t help but follow the lines of his pajama-clad legs up. Limp, pale hands hung at the sides and Stiles’ heart began to race. It only just hit him that this was a  _ real  _ body. Other than Scott, he’d never seen a dead body that wasn’t a photograph or in a film. He inhaled sharply, seeing the man’s shaggy blonde hair swept over wide blue eyes. They were glassy and unblinking, and it was as if they were staring right at Stiles. Wide, black bags hung underneath the dead eyes, and Stiles ran from the room, dry heaving in the hallway. He blinked back tears as he fought to keep the contents of his stomach down. He felt Derek’s hand on his back in an instant. 

“Stiles, breathe with me,” Derek said calmly. Stiles closed his eyes and let himself think about anything but what he just saw. It took a few minutes of silence, but eventually he was composed enough to listen to what Derek had to say. 

“There are some marks on the window, and Allison said she got in no problem. That’s probably how Lydia got out.”

“Or how someone got in,” Stiles said in a gloomy tone. 

“Let’s hope for the best first.”

Derek did one more sweep around the room to make sure they didn’t forget anything and left for the stairs. The greeter was still not back, and Stiles had a really strange feeling. He did notice the placard now read “199” and had to wonder what that was about. Derek guided him outside, where Allison and Isaac were standing outside the jeep, offering the keys to Stiles. 

“Find anything else?” Allison asked quickly. Lydia was one of her best friends at camp, she couldn’t bear the thought of her being in danger. 

Derek shook his head. “It had to be the window, nothing else was disturbed, and there were nail marks along the ledge.”

“Shit,” Allison murmured, rubbing her hand across her forehead as she did when she was stressed. 

“We walked around the building, there was nothing under her window, not a single footstep,” Isaac informed them as they hopped in the jeep. 

“Now what?” Stiles asked, feeling hopeless. They needed Lydia. 

“Well who would’ve wanted to take her?” Derek asked. 

“Most likely Kate, I would think,” Stiles proposed. “If she knows we’re after her, then she might try to strike first.”

“That’s logical,” Allison agreed. “I can’t think of anyone else that would follow us.”

“It could be the same people from your house,” Isaac offered as well, looking at Stiles’.

“So it couldn’t be Cyclopes, you’d think they would be a little louder.”

“It can either climb really well, or it came from the roof. If it were tall enough to reach the window it would’ve been heavy enough to leave footsteps.”

“Oh Gods, what if it can fly,” Isaac asked, shuddering at the thought. 

“Well where would it take her?” Allison asked. She hated not having a trail to follow.

“We find Kate,” Stiles said, voice shaking. He felt like he was turning his back on Lydia. “That’s how we find Lydia.” He took a deep breath, telling himself that it was the only way. 

“Stiles is right,” Derek said, his voice barely above a whisper. Stiles could sense the guilt in his voice too. 

“I don’t like it,” Allison whispered, mostly to herself. “This is so messed up!” She suddenly yelled out of frustration. “Why would my aunt do this! What’s in it for her?” 

Stiles and Derek realized that Allison's guilt  was overwhelming too. 

"Hey, it's not your fault," Isaac said calmly, side-hugging his sister. 

"We keep our eyes out for Lydia, hopefully whoever took her didn't get very far," Stiles said more confidently. "Let's just get going." They could all agree to that..

It was still dark, but the sun would be rising soon. It left the road open and empty as they sped their way to the border. Stiles asked to borrow Isaac’s phone. Whoever it was back there, they deserved better. He called his dad. 

“Isaac?"

“Hey Dad, it’s me,” he answered, eyes watering at the sound of hearing his dad’s voice.

“Stiles, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure, well, no, not really. We’re fine, but something happened at the motel we stayed in.”

“What’s going on?” The sheriff’s voice got dangerously low. 

“Motel Glen Capri, not that far from the border, there’s a dead body,” he blurted out quickly.

“ _ Jesus Christ, _ ” his dad cursed under his breath.

“Nothing to do with us,” Stiles assured him.

“Yeah, not helping.”

“We don’t know who it is, but we found him like that, and I didn’t know who else to call -”

“Just leave it to me,” his dad said.

“Are you going to get in trouble?” Stiles asked, worried about his dad’s involvement.

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them it was an anonymous tip that came from California. It’ll override any suspicions they have about jurisdictions. Plus, I’ll only be an informant, I won’t be there.”

“Please be safe dad.”

“You too, kiddo.”

Stiles felt a little lighter after hearing his dad’s voice and knowing someone was going back out for the unknown man. Was he involved somehow? Or was he collateral damage, and they were to blame for his death? Stiles tried not to think about it too much, and let his dad figure out where he came from and who he was. If he was related to this in any way, they’d need to know. Within the hour, they reached the border, and panic set in. There was one guard in a collector's booth, manning the gate, and two guards in their nest-like posts on either side of the gate. 

"Uhhhhh, am I the only one who has a passport on them?" Stiles asked. 

"I should have mine," Allison piped up, rummaging around in her backpack.

"I wouldn't know about mine," Isaac shrugged sheepishly. 

"Me neither," Derek said in a low voice. 

"Well, this could be a problem."

Unfortunately, they were being waved over, which didn't leave a lot of time for Stiles' to think. 

"What are we going to do?" Allison asked in a panicked voice.

"Just... keep calm and follow my lead," Stiles said.  _ Follow my lead? What the hell am I saying?   _ He tried to get himself to focus, not quite sure what he would say. He drove slowly to the gate, lining up with the collector's booth.

"Good morning, sir," Stiles greeted with a friendly smile. He knew authority types, always preening at "sir" this and "sir" that. 

"Do you intend to leave American soil to enter the country of Mexico, young man?" The guard's tone was not at all friendly. 

"Yes! Yes, we're looking forward to Mexico. We've just graduated, and we're all going to different colleges, thought it'd be really nice to take a little road trip together before we all get split up.”

"S'that so?" The  guard responded, already bending down to peer in the Jeep, eyeing each of them suspiciously. "You  look a little older," he said as his eyes fell on Derek.

"This is my cousin Miguel," Stiles said quickly. 

"Miguel, eh?" 

Stiles could tell he was very, very close to blowing the whole thing, and he was putting Derek on the spot. 

"Sí, Miguel," (Yes, Miguel) Derek responded, and Stiles had to stop himself from whipping his head around. The guard actually smiled for a second. 

"No te ves como tu prima mucho," (you don't look like your cousin very much) the guard said, studying the two of them intensely. Stiles had to keep his cool, and let Derek handle this. He saw Derek smile in a joking manner. 

"Créeme," (Trust me) Derek chuckled. "No somos similares en muchos aspectos." (We are not similar in many ways). He then playfully punched Stiles in the shoulder (OW!) but Stiles got the hint and started laughing along. 

"Sólo tratando de asegurarse de que no se meten en problemas," (I'm just here to keep them out of trouble) Derek said again in a serious manner. He looked at Stiles with soft eyes, and Stiles had no idea what was happening but he returned the smile. 

"¡Bueno!" (Good!) the guard said enthusiastically. "Los adolescentes en estos días..." (Teenagers these days…) 

Derek laughed along with the guard in agreement. 

"You all be on your best behaviour," the guard said, instantly scowling again. "Passports, please."

Stiles panicked, but fished his out of the backpack that laid at his feet. He handed it over the the guard right away. The guard looked it over and went to hand it back. Stiles saw Derek rummage around the glove box. Allison stuck her passport out to Stiles, who handed it to the guard. He took a very quick glance before deeming it enough for her to pass. 

"Maldita sea!" (Dammit!) Derek said, angrily slamming the glove box. He gave a sheepish smile. "Forgive me., I... I can't believe it. I was so busy this morning making sure they had packed everything, I neglected my own packing. I’m sorry guys, we’ll have to turn back." 

“It’s okay, Miguel, I can’t find mine either,” Isaac said in a small voice.

“No, we packed yours, I remember,” Derek said adamantly. “Unless we lost it at the motel.” He gave a disgusted look, then looked to Stiles. 

“We left in a big hurry,” Stiles added, picking up on Derek’s clue, looking at the guard. “Did you hear about the… y’know?”

The guard looked between all of them. Allison did her part by wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. Isaac just stared ahead, and gulped, looking very traumatized. 

“Hear about what?” The guard asked cautiously.

“There was… A death, this guy, he hung himself,” Stiles said, making sure his voice was shaking. 

“Right there in the room across from us,” Derek added. “Woke up in the middle of the night because of the bangin’ heaters, and when we opened the door…”

Stiles just nodded, gripping his steering wheel until his knuckles were white, breathing deeply.

“Damn,” he let out a low whistle. “Something kids should never see. Hey, if you can promise they’ll stay outta trouble…” He suggested, staring at Derek as if this was all on him.

“Absolutely, sir,” Derek agreed. “Palabra de honor.” (Word of honour). 

The guard nodded at them and went back to the booth. He lifted the gate for them and Stiles drove slowly to avoid any more suspicion. As soon as they were a few minutes away, Stiles let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Holy shit indeed,” Isaac agreed. They were still stunned they had managed to pull that off.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Isaac said to Derek. 

Derek shrugged. “My mother spoke Spanish. I’m a bit rusty, I don’t have anyone to practice with at camp.”

Stiles let out of a laugh - he finally felt relief. “I am so lucky to have you,” he blurted out. “I mean, we,” Stiles corrected himself. “We’re so lucky to have you. Come on the quest with us, I mean.” He would blame the flush in his cheeks on the hot desert air. Derek simply raised an eyebrow and the archers decided not to say anything at all. 

They drove in silence for a while as Allison and Isaac nodded off in the back. Even Derek let his eyes slip close as Stiles continued South to Kate’s last known location. At some point, he felt his eyelids get heavy and had to pull over. 

“Stiles?” Derek murmured, waking up. 

“Sorry, just… gotta let my eyes rest,” Stiles said.

“If you want, I can drive for a bit,” Allison offered, stretching her arms. She felt rested enough. 

“Sure,” Stiles agreed easily. He was too tired but also too eager to get to their destination. Besides himself, Allison was the only other one to have a driver’s license. 

“Isaac, keep me company,” Allison chided, nudging him in the ribs. They all got out of the car and switched seats so the archers took the front and Stiles and Derek got in the back. Derek took the opportunity to stretch his legs as well. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t let me get kidnapped,” Stiles said in a mostly-serious-manner. He then closed his eyes briefly and didn’t even realize that was all it took for him to drift off to sleep. 

“Pass me your phone,” Allison whispered after a few minutes. Isaac followed her instructions without questioning her. “Here,” she placed his hand on one side of the steering wheel before turning herself around. Taking the flash off, she snapped a few pictures of Stiles, drooling on Derek’s shoulder and in turn, Derek resting his head on top of Stiles’, messing up the mop of brown hair. 

She bit her lip to prevent a giggle and told Isaac they’d thank her one day. 

 


	14. DAY SEVEN (Part 2): The Kanima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *intensity intensifies*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, a chapter?! whaaaaat! Sorry for the delay, folks. Things got really rough and I had to work two jobs so my stories took some time off, but I'm revisiting now! ^_^ I've already got the next chapter wrapping up!
> 
> Thank you all for the continuous support and encouragement!

“I think we’re here,” Allison announced. Stiles bolted upright, eyes blinking to accommodate the light. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and they’d arrived at a secluded lot with a barn and small house. Derek yawned and stretched his arms, pointedly ignoring the wet spot on his shoulder. He glared at Stiles who, conveniently, was looking everywhere but at Derek. 

“This is it…” Allison said, pulling the Jeep in slowly. There was no clear sign that someone was there. The driveway was clear, so they pulled right up to the house.

“Let’s take a look around,” Derek said. They exited the Jeep and split up. Stiles and Derek took to the barn, while Allison and Isaac stalked slowly up to the house with their bows. Stiles hated that he was unarmed, relying on Derek and the small dagger he knew would be in Derek’s boot. 

Derek approached the barn slowly, listening for any signs of life. Then, he quickly wrenched the door open and stepped inside. There were no lights inside so they had to rely on what little sunlight poured in through the doorway and the cracks in the wall.

Stiles felt like his body was in overdrive. He didn’t really know what to expect, not after everything they’ve done. 

“Lydia!” 

Stiles heard Derek before he could see him. He was filled with hope that Derek would just grab Lydia (who would be fine) and they’d book it the hell out of here. 

If only.

There was a high-pitched muffled shriek, and Stiles went to take a step before something  _ huge  _ dropped down from the ceiling and set Stiles flinging himself backwards to avoid the giant monster. Stiles’ eyes blew wide open as he took in the sight. The beast in front of him was a sick-looking green, with skin that looked moist and scaley. It stood on it’s hind legs and stretched its enormous wings that spanned almost the width of the barn.

“What the fuck!” Stiles swore loudly, unable to help himself. “Derek!” he called, but no response came. Lydia’s voice continued to be muffled. 

“Help!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, backing up away from the creature. “HELP!” 

He heard a distant banging, like a door flying open and prayed it was Allison and/or Isaac coming to his rescue. There was no way that he was taking his eyes off the creature even for a second.

"Get down!" 

Stiles dropped at Allison's command, hearing the sharp whiz as an arrow passed overhead. It was followed by a second one and a third. He winced as the monster led out a roar of anger, and saw it whipped around. Stiles booked it toward Allison and Isaac, standing side-by-side. 

“Wait! Lydia and Derek are in there somewhere,” Stiles warned. 

“Don’t worry, we’re good shots,” Isaac said with an easy smile. Together they worked in perfect harmony, shooting at a vulnerable spot, and holding off until they saw a pattern in its movements before firing again. Every one of their arrows landed, even as the creature shrunk itself down, folding its wings in and dropping on all fours. Then, it crawled along the floor and walls with incredible speed, trying to dodge the onslaught. Soon, there were arrows embedded in the walls of barn as well as the creature. Miraculously, it didn’t slow down. It simply hissed at them before erupting through the ceiling of the barn and flying away. 

“What the HELL!” Stiles shouted, standing behind Isaac. They eased their bows, instead looking in the wreckage. Planks of wood had fallen, which had also kicked up the dust, obscuring their view. 

“Derek! Lydia!” Stiles shouted. The only reply was a muffled sound.  _ Shit _ . He panicked, thinking about the worst. He scrambled in the barn, making his way back to corner where Derek had first headed.

He skidded to a halt when he saw Derek lying on the ground, and Lydia in the corner, arms tied together behind her back with a napkin wrapped around her mouth. Allison and Isaac were there in a second. Allison wasted no time in untying the handkerchief around Lydia’s mouth. Lydia choked and gasped for air, taking deep breaths. Her cheeks were red and splotchy, eyes watering. 

  
“Are you okay?” Allison asked as she took an arrowhead to the bondage around Lydia’s hands and feet, making quick work of them. Lydia only nodded.

Stiles and Isaac turned their attention to Derek, who laid facedown on the floor, eyes open. Stiles could see Derek’s body rising and falling with each breath. 

“Help me flip him over,” he asked Isaac as the two of them took Derek’s weight. “Derek, are you okay?”

Derek just blinked his eyes slowly. 

“What’s going on? Where are you hurt?” 

There was a sort of strangled noise that came from Derek’s throat, but nothing that Stiles could make out. 

“It’s a Kanima,” Lydia informed them, lifting herself with Allison’s help on shaky legs. “In Greek folklore, it was considered a jaguar-like shapeshifter.”

“That was definitely a giant, slimy lizard,” Stiles interrupted. With an eyeroll, Lydia continued. 

“It’s adapted of course,” she said. “It’s been said that a Kanima is human, whose shapeshifting abilities stem from being unable to reconcile themselves with their past. Often, it’s young people who are alone, lost or have had a tragedy in their lives that leave them unable to move on. Its appearance reflects what the person sees themselves as, sometimes,” Lydia added.

“Please tell me they don’t travel in packs like the cyclopes,” Stiles pleaded.

“No, Kanimas don’t travel in groups. But, the Kanima doesn’t work alone either, it often seeks out a master.”

“A master?” Stilers echoed. 

Lydia nodded. “It’s traditionally a weapon of vengeance.”

“Okay, this is  _ not  _ sounding good. Is Derek going to be okay? Should we get ambrosia?”

Lydia shook her head before cradling it in her hand like she was fending off a massive headache. “Yeah, he should be. If I’m not mistaken, the Kanima is protected by a paralytic gel-type substance. It’s claws and tails drip with it and can render a human paralyzed within a few seconds.”

“How long will Derek stay like this?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hrmph,” Derek grunted. “I’m gonna kill it.” 

“Can you move yet?” Stiles asked eagerly. He didn’t like being a sitting duck in case that thing returned. 

“I can feel my limbs, at least,” Derek admitted. “Just give me a few minutes.” 

“Lydia, what happened at the motel?” Allison asked. 

She moaned as she nursed her head. “I’m not even sure myself. I was asleep when it happened, but I heard my window crack open. Before I could even open my eyes, all I could see was black. I can’t remember anything else after that. Next thing I know, I’m here in this barn.”

“It had to be Kate!” Allison cried. “This was her last known location.”

“You don’t think… You don’t think the Kanima chose Kate as its master, do you?” Isaac asked, eyes wide in fear. 

“It’s the most likely explanation,” Derek said, grunting with the effort of sitting up. He opened and closed his hands to get the feeling back. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Allison said, blinking back tears. She’d feel awful if someone else got hurt because of her aunt. She hugged Lydia close.

“I knew you’d find me,” she whispered, leaning against Allison. She was utterly exhausted.

“We should follow the Kanima, see if we can track it,” Derek said, brushing off the attack as though nothing happened.

“What, are you crazy?” Stiles asked. “That thing could kill us. Very easily, might I add.”

“Yeah, which means it could kill a lot of innocent people,” Derek retaliated and, well, it was really hard to argue with that. 

“Well, we won’t have much luck locating it on the ground, it took to the sky,” Isaac pointed out.

“Oh no…”

“Lydia?” They turned to her.

“That means it’s evolved as well.”

“Evolved? What is this, Pokemon?” Stiles asked.

“It means that it’s become stronger, hence the wings and tougher skin,” Lydia said with another eyeroll. They were going to fall out of her head, she was sure of it. “It means that it’s slowly losing its humanity, becoming more and more the beast.” 

“I know!” Allison exclaimed. “Let’s call camp! Maybe Deaton knows more about this?”

Lydia nodded along. “Other than what I’ve told you, I don’t know much else about the Kanima. Deaton would definitely know.”

They trudged back to the house, and Stiles took the time to look around to see if Kate left anything behind. It was a two-floor house, with a narrow hallway and small rooms. It was more cozy than luxurious, but perfect if you wanted to keep a low profile. The nearest town was at least two miles away, and only a few scattered houses remained in the field. It was by no means kept up, as Stiles could see peeling paint and mould along one kitchen wall. 

Luckily, the tap still worked. Allison plugged the stopper into the sink and let the water flow. Then, she flung a drachma into the stream and called for Camp Half-Blood. 

“What the -”   


“Jackson?” Lydia asked, recognizing his voice. 

“Lydia?” Jackson’s face finally came into view. His hair was damp, and it was obvious he had been in the lake by camp. “Where are you? Are you guys in trouble?”

“We need Deaton!” Allison interrupted. 

Jackson nodded before hollering over his shoulder for some campers to get Deaton. 

“Are you guys okay?” Kira’s voice came in the background. 

“Kira!” Allison greeted as the young woman appeared behind Jackson. 

“What happened?!” She asked with a concerned face. Soon, a bunch of campers had appeared on the edge of the lake behind Jackson, trying to see the heroes chosen for the quest. 

“Long story,” Isaac began. 

“There’s a giant flying monster,” Stiles added.

“We saw a dead body,” came Allison.

“Oh, and I was kidnapped,” Lydia stated. The campers looked to Derek.

“I was paralyzed?”  Then came gasps and murmurs from the campers who were living vicariously through them. 

“Out of the way!” They immediately parted to make room for the centaur. “What happened?” 

They began a very short summary of their events, to which Deaton quickly frowned. 

“The evolved Kanima is easily a hundred times more dangerous than an unevolved Kanima. At this point, the best way to take down the Kanima is to find its identity and appeal to what little humanity they have left. I’m not so sure a physical battle would tip in your favour, especially if it can fly.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Stiles said sarcastically. 

“We might not have the resources or the time to find out who it could be. We can barely keep up with Kate, let alone go through all her known associates,” Allison admitted. 

“Then we’ll have to try our best to give you the physical advantage that you dearly need,” their mentor responded. 

“I can send some pegasi!” Kira’s voice chirped happily in the background. 

“Pegasi?” Stiles asked, wondering more and more about this hidden world he’d just been introduced to. 

“That’d be wonderful,” Deaton said, and they watched Kira take off. 

“How are they gonna find us?” Stiles asked. “And what about my Jeep?” 

“We’ll take care of your Jeep,” Deaton assured him. “The pegasi will listen to Keira, they are creatures of the sky, her father’s domain. They will find you based off your demigod aura.” Stiles nodded along like he followed what Deaton was saying. 

“Try to surround it, and be very careful when facing it’s tail. It’s faster than you could imagine,” Deaton advised them. “If you can puncture the wing, that will even the odds a bit as long as you can retain your advantage on top the pegasi.”

“Got it,” Allison nodded. 

“One more thing,” Deaton said. “The Kanima will not take kindly to an attack on who they were. Remember that appealing to their humanity includes trying to empathize with them, taking their side. Try to convince them they are not a monster and they are not alone.” 

“Thanks Deaton,” they said, relieved they were getting back-up. The Iris message was starting to fade. 

“We’re just gonna take a look upstairs,” Stiles said. It was a good thing they did the sweep because Stiles stumbled along some photographs that came out blurry. They showed an older couple, from several angles and clearly on different dates. There were a few other people photographed as well, ranging from teens to seniors. Stiles gathered the photos because if Kate was interested in these people, so were they. 

They gathered downstairs in the living room. There was a broken down satellite outside the window, and the flowerbeds were a mess. Together, they went through what they found. 

“She left in a hurry, there’s a ton of stuff left behind,” Isaac noted. “Toiletries were scattered around the bathroom, and some clothes were still in the laundry basket. Other than that, nothing that could identify her had been left behind.” 

Stiles was the only who produced valuable evidence. 

“These are some creepy stalker shots I found in the bedroom. They’re a little blurry, but Kate’s definitely watching them,” Stiles said as he spread them out over the table. He hadn’t taken a good look at any of them.

“That’s my grandma!” Allison cried out, snatching one of the pictures off the tabletop.

She looked around for more, snatching a few. “That’s my grandpa…” 

"So Kate  _ does  _ know them," Isaac said.

"But the question is, do  _ they  _ know about  _ her _ ," Derek mentioned, body tense with fear. There was a difference between knowing someone and being stalked by someone - that he knew. He'd mostly been quiet during their investigation into the house, but Stiles realized how hard it might be for Derek to confront his family's murderer. 

"I wish my dad would call us already," Allison said, pacing the room with the pictures in her hand. The timestamps ranged over two months, so they knew Kate was planning something. 

"We'll have to get to them somehow," Lydia concluded. "It's the only way to get answers."

"At least we can take the pegasi after we find the Kanima," Isaac added. Derek hovered over a few photographs that had been hidden under the pile as the rest of them moved for the door.

“Derek?” Stiles questioned as the man continued to peer at the photos in his hand. 

“Hm?” It was as if he’d forgotten where they were. 

“You coming?”

“Yeah,” he responded, though his eyes remained on the photos. He eventually swept them all up and put them inside his pocket. Stiles wanted to question him, but he figured taking the photos wouldn’t do any harm anyway.

They went to the Jeep to get their packs before waiting for their next (and unconventional) method of transportation.

The animals didn't take long to reach them. Stiles just stared in awe as five winged horses trotted in the yard, whinnying for their attention. He could barely contain his excitement as he made his way to the nearest one. 

"Come here, boy," Stiles said, outstretching his hand. The horse whipped its head as though to shake Stiles' presence off, brown mane flicking back and forth.

"That," Derek said with a small smirk, "is a girl. And her name is Skippy."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Stiles said immediately. The horse made a grunting noise as though she were laughing at him. Still, she strolled over and headbutted him, making him stumble back a few steps.

"I think she likes you," Derek smirked, gently caressing the top of his pegasus' head. Derek's pegasus had a smooth black coat all over. His wings were also black, and Stiles could tell right away that these creatures were majestic, but powerful as he watched the muscles ripple underneath their shiny coats. 

"Skippy, eh?" Stiles smiled, reaching out his hand. Not too gently, she nudged it, giving him permission to pet her and climb aboard. 

"Atta boy, Blackjack," Derek cooed gently, and Stiles thought it was fricken adorable. Blackjack was a bit larger than Skippy, and took Derek's weight easily. The other three also nestled into their spots, looking comfortable with their pegasi. 

"Skippy and Blackjack? Who named them?" Stiles asked curiously.

"They did, mostly," Derek answered. 

"Skippy is named after the peanut butter, because that's the colour her coat reminded us of. The campers started calling her Skippy, and at first she didn't seem to like it, but we fed her some and suddenly she agreed," Isaac told the story. "My pegasus' name is Porkpie, and it's pretty much the same story with him." Isaac's pegasus bobbed his head, white mane flying wildly. 

"That's Guido," Isaac pointed at Lydia's horse. "He only lets girls ride him, so we think he's a flirt. Scott named him after watching a whole season of Jersey Shore." Guido also had a white mane, but his hair was more tame than Porkpie's. He whinnied happily at the acknowledgement.

"What's your name, buddy?" Stiles asked Allison's pegasus. 

"Meet Dante," Allison smiled as she patted Dante’s neck. "He's a sweetheart." Dante’s coat was a beautiful auburn, and he had the longest mane of thick blonde hair. He also had crowns of hair atop his feet, which made him look kind of like a Ponyta, not that Stiles said that. 

They smiled fondly, and Stiles knew that stable duties were part of everyday camp life, but they seemed to have special connections with their horses. Maybe he could ask about it later. 

"Shall we?" Allison asked.

“We shall.” And with that, they took off east to follow the Kanima. 

  
  



	15. DAY SEVEN (Part 3): Kanima/France

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a short update! Hopefully, the twist is unexpected. Love you all! Thanks for the comments and support, I LOVE YOU GUYS

It didn’t take long before they found themselves a little lost. Stiles wasn't entirely sure they were heading the right way, but he'd been told that the pegasi have a great sense of smell and they seemed to be very confident. They also wanted a water break, so they landed near a stream where the pegasi gulped at the fresh water greedily.

“We should split up,” Stiles suggested, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek practically growled at him. 

“We can’t keep trailing behind Kate, we need to get ahead of her,” Stiles pursued.

“What do you propose?” Isaac asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him.

“You and Allison head for France,” Stiles suggested. “You said that your dad was already on his way so if you meet with him, that will give you some back-up… and it only makes sense since you’re the only one your family would trust.”

Allison nodded hesitantly, eyeing the remaining three of them, “And you?” She was almost afraid to ask. 

Stiles took a deep breath. “I think Lydia and I should go after the Kanima. Derek, I don’t know if you want to come with us -”

“I’m going with you.”

“- alrighty,” Stiles continued, seriously afraid Derek was going to punch him soon. “So Lydia, Derek and I go after the Kanima.”

Allison looked really unsure by this. “I don’t know Stiles…”

“What she means is, we got our asses handed to us last time, and now you want to go with even lower numbers,” Isaac said bluntly. “Even with the two of us, some of our arrows still missed, and that’s saying a lot!”

“Look, I don’t like this either,” Stiles said, putting his hands up in defeat. “But we have two very clear quests and we can’t waste time. Besides… I might have something that could help us.” Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the shining drachma that Artemis had given him. 

“You want to call on Artemis for this?” Isaac asked.

“Well, you pretty much said it yourself, two archers were barely enough, let’s call on a few dozen,” Stiles shrugged. It was the best plan we had.

“It might work,” Lydia said. 

“If you think this is the best,” Allison said, still reluctant to leave her friends in danger. 

_ Two arrows will fly, but only one will land… _

“It’s you two that I’m worried about,” Stiles gulped, trying to shake his memory of the Prophecy. “Please, be careful.”

“You guys keep the phone. When we reach France, we’ll be able to call you,” Isaac said, handing over his cell phone. Derek placed it in his pocket.

“Call as soon as you can,” Lydia instructed. They nodded before heading for their pegasi. With one last wave and long look, they took off for their destination, heading northeast. 

“I sure hope this works, Stiles,” Lydia said before hopping back on Guido. 

Blackjack whinnied before landing on his feet, swishing his tail back and forth. It made Skippy restless as well, and before long the three pegasi nudged at them to get on, Blackjack already trying to make for the thickening trees. 

“Whoa, hold on,” Derek said with a hard voice, trying to reign Blackjack in. Impatiently, Blackjack lowered his head to Derek as a sign he needed to get on. Obeying the creatures, they held on as the pegasi took off running to the trees before taking off at the last second, making some of the leaves rustle. The jungle looked lush from above, the tree leaves wide and dense. It made it hard to believe that they could find the Kanima in all of it. They took a sharp left, and Stiles felt the wind shift, almost knocking him off Skippy. Blackjack flew close enough that Derek gave Stiles a push, uprighting him again. He barely had time to get his heart to stop racing before Skippy took a plunge. He looked to see Derek and Lydia laying themselves flat against the necks of their pegasi, so Stiles did the same. It definitely helped him feel more secure but all he could see was a dangerous soon-to-be crash landing. He closed his eyes and may have prayed to Athena not to let her son die this way. 

His body shuddered with a jolt that ran through his whole body, and bounced against Skippy a couple of times. When she finally stopped moving, he opened his eyes. Derek and Lydia had already straightened and took in their surroundings. Stiles felt his heart drop. All the advice that Deaton had given them was going to be of no use - the thick vines and trees in the jungle made it hard for the pegasi to maneuver in the air while the Kanima was free to climb the trees and branches to evade them, not to mention the ability to blend in with the forestry. They were at a severe disadvantage. He panicked even more when he couldn’t find a pool of water anywhere to use his drachma to call on backup. 

“Guys,” Stiles gulped heavily. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“Well, Blackjack is pretty damn certain that the Kanima is here somewhere,” Derek said as he hopped of his pegasus.

His body language and stance told Stiles that he wasn’t the only one on edge. Lydia held her daggers tightly while staying on top of Guido. Her pegasus seemed calmer than ever, lazily flicking his tail now and then while Lydia perched, alert. 

A loud rustling turned their attention and Skippy was barely fast enough to jump out of the way, leaving the Kanima to slash at the air where Stiles had been.

“HOLY F-” he didn’t have time to finish that sentence as Skippy reared backwards and flapped her wings, jerkily launching Stiles back, Guido rearing and kicking the Kanima into a nearby tree. The sickening crack of the bark made Stiles think they had a chance, but the Kanima unfolded its wings and launched itself at Derek. Blackjack expertly dodged to the side, turning so he and Derek faced their attacker. 

“Get behind me!” Derek yelled, though it was clearly directed at Stiles. Lydia remained close to his side, protecting Stiles on both fronts. He hated being useless - he vowed to double his efforts of training if he ever made it back to camp alive.

The Kanima flapped its wings, sending a gust of wind and dirt in their direction. Stiles could barely keep his eyes open as the monster screeched at the top of its lungs. Blackjack and Derek took off towards the Kanima, which really wasn’t the right direction in Stiles’ opinion. The Kanima was just as fast as Blackjack, and they met in a horrible clash. Derek was holding his own, trading blows with the Kanima. Stiles was alert for the Kanima hitting any part of Derek with its claws, just in case he was paralyzed again, but Derek was entirely focused on keeping the Kanima at bay. Now that they weren’t being ambushed, Derek was going toe-to-toe with the Kanima, aided by Blackjack. Lydia and Guido took the opportunity to fly above the Kanima, Lydia throwing pointed daggers at the creature. She landed one in its shoulder, and one in its tail. It deflected one of her other daggers into a nearby tree. Guido landed behind the Kanima, giving Lydia a chance at its open back. 

Unfortunately, it clued into their plan, and whipped around. Blackjack reared, narrowly avoiding the Kanima’s tail. The Kanima lunged toward Lydia, and after it’s first step, Derek urged Blackjack on. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was brave or stupid, but Derek raised himself on Blackjack’s back and like a springboard, flew towards the Kanima. He landed on the Kanima’s back, hands locked in front of the Kanima’s chest, effectively pinning the monster’s arms to its side. The Kanima hissed, and reared, trying to throw Derek off its back. Blackjack was working hard to avoid the ferocious swipes of the Kanima’s tail, trying to get to Derek.

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest. He should do something!

“C’mon Skippy,” Stiles urged. “We should help!” Skippy had done her part by trying her best to use the trees for coverage, hiding Stiles from most of the fight, dodging incoming blows or shrapnel. She snorted, as though she disagreed. 

Derek was somehow still holding onto it, which gave Lydia the opening to drive her daggers into the joint behind the Kanima’s shoulders, where the wings sprouted from. It screeched in pain, snapping its jaws at Lydia, who retreated. Guido was doing a great job helping Lydia dart in and out to land her attacks, and the Kanima slowed considerably with Derek’s extra weight throwing it off balance. The Kanima must have realized that getting Lydia wasn’t happening without freeing itself from Derek first. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Stiles said, lightly tapping Skippy on the side. With a snort, she obliged and trotted lightly to the fray.

“Stop!” Stiles yelled at it. “We don’t want to hurt you!” God, he hated that he sounded so cliche. 

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek said with a dangerous look in his eyes. 

He only glanced at Derek, but was determined. “We know who you are,” he bluffed. “Who you  _ really  _ are. Yeah, I’m talking about who you used to be.”

Lydia kept a poker face, but her eyes were darting between Stiles and the Kanima, who was completely focused  on Stiles.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated. “But if you keep hurting us, we don’t have a choice. I know you can understand me. How about we call a truce? What if my friends here, let you go, and we just talk?” 

The Kanima hissed at him, but stayed still. Stiles took it as a good sign. 

“Here, let me tell you about myself. My name is Stiles, I live with my dad.”

The Kanima hissed again, louder this time and tried to step toward him. 

_ Okay, father is out of the picture.  _ “Do you remember your family? Your mom?” Stiles tried, hoping that Kanima body language was the same. 

It blinked at him, and Stiles felt victorious. 

“Keep thinking about that, my friends are going to back away now, slowly, can we trust you?” 

Stiles nodded at Derek and Lydia. Derek let go, dropping to his feet, and Guido leapt backwards a few feet. As soon as it was was free, it shrieked and swung its tail at Derek, tossing him to the ground a few feet in front of Stiles, paralyzing him once more.

“HEY!” Stiles yelled, running to Derek. He felt like such an ass for getting Derek hurt. Again. “We had a deal!” Stiles said, furious at the creature. He was doing what Deaton had told them, trying to appeal to the human within, but if it meant getting his friends injured, he wouldn’t have a problem hunting it down either. 

The Kanima stalked toward Stiles, and Lydia was instantly beside him, having hopped off Guido.

“Come any closer, and we won’t show mercy this time!” Lydia barked fiercely, raising her bloody daggers. The Kanima’s wings hung at its side, uselessly. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“We know you don’t want to do this,” Stiles added, moving closer to Lydia so they were blocking Derek. Blackjack, Skippy and Guido right behind them.  “Don’t you miss your family?” Stiles asked. “Don’t you want to see them again?”

This time, the Kanima let out a loud cry, and Stiles thought it was more painful than dangerous, like it was in agony. Stiles felt he was on the right track. 

“Let us help you,” Stiles pleaded this time. “Tell us - show us - who you are, and I promise you, we’re going to try and help. Derek began to move beside him, and Stiles just had to keep stalling, in case they needed to fight their way out again. 

“My dad’s the sheriff back home, I can get him to find anyone for you,” Stiles pushed. “I swear on it, I will try to help you.”

The Kanima stared at them, like it was trying to decide if it wanted to trust them.  Lydia held onto his hand, showing the Kanima that their friendship was strong. “We promise. We only want to help.” 

The Kanima stepped closer, slowly, looking at their linked hands - a sign of humanity, of unity, of love. Unbelievably, it shrank before their eyes, and the skin faded from its green hue. The reptilian features began morphing into human ones, and what shocked Stiles the most was how small and young the human turned out to look. She had long, straight brown hair that fell the length of her torso and stood at about 5’4”. She was thin, but muscular, and had large brown eyes, which were glancing back and forth. There was still blood, dripping from her back, and Stiles rushed forward, taking off his backpack as he went. She backed away from him, quicker than Stiles thought a human could. “I just want to look at your wounds. I have bandages,” Stiles explained, slowly opening his backpack. 

“I don’t trust you,” she said, panicking, backing away from him. 

“I won’t move,” Stiles said. “Okay? We’ll just take it real slow, but you’re bleeding, and I know you can feel it.” Her face gave her away. 

“We’re just trying to help,” Lydia echoed.

“Fine,” she spat. “But not him,” she said, eyes on Derek, who was finally sitting upright and recovering from the attack.

They looked at each other inquisitively. “Derek?” Stiles asked.

She sank to her knees, gripping her hair as though she was trying to block them out. “Get away!” she screamed frantically.

“Derek, do you know her?” Lydia asked. 

For a moment, it looked like Derek was going to say ‘no’ but then his eyes widened and he said with a shaky voice, as he struggled to stand. 

“Cora?” he whispered. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison and Isaac's adventure now..

It wasn’t too difficult to get to France, but took them some time to orient themselves. Making their way south, Allison instructed the pegasi to head for  Languedoc-Roussillon-Midi-Pyrénées . She hoped that finding her grandparents in  Lozère would be easier if she could call her dad once they were in the right region.

The pegasi, of course, couldn’t land in the middle of two square. Even with the Mist, it would look odd if two young adults just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Any ideas?” she heard Isaac ask from her left. 

“We just need cover,” she said, scanning the area beneath the clouds. “There!” She gave Dante a gentle nudge to have Dante begin their descent. The trees were thicker than Allison realized, which caused a lot of rustling as the pegasi landed. 

“Thank you, Dante,” Allison nuzzled him affectionately. The horse bobbed his head up and down, effectively messing up one side of Allison’s hair. She giggled with a smile, and patted his neck.

“Can you hang around for a little bit? We’ll be back soon, no more than a couple of hours,” Allison asked. Dante bumped his head against her shoulder. Porkpie and Isaac said their goodbyes before Allison and Isaac made their way back to town. She knew that they couldn’t be far from her grandparents because the area looked familiar, and she remembered the forestry on their drive from the airport. 

“Let’s try to find a phone,” Isaac said. Allison nodded, and they headed to a nearby coffee shop. They ordered and Allison asked to use their phone, which the barista agreed to. After a brief moment, she hung up and told Isaac her dad would be there soon. 

She was nervous, now that they were so close. There were so many things that could go wrong. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Isaac said. They finished their drinks by the time Chris came to get them in his rental car. 

“Allison!” Chris’ voice was filled with relief as he hugged his daughter close. 

“Hi, dad,” she said, not eager to let go either. 

“Hey,” Isaac greeted with a wave, and Chris smiled at him over Allison’s shoulder.  He inspected Allison before letting himself believe she was actually okay. Her arm was sporting a bruise, but she was in one piece and still smiling. 

“Wanna fill me in now?” he said with a pointed look. They shared a look, which Chris didn’t like, it meant that things hadn’t gone according to plan. He sighed. 

“Let’s just get you kids in the car. Explain on the way.” 

Allison took a deep breath as she sat in the passenger seat. Chris didn’t start the car yet, taking the time to look over Allison. Her hair was a mess, and the bruised arm was worrying, but other than that, something else had changed, but he couldn’t tell what. He noticed that Isaac put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which gave her enough strength to tell him everything. He listened patiently, not interrupting her when she stumbled or went back to explain a detail. She barely breathed as she spoke, hands wildly gesturing to emphasize a point. He was disturbed about the incident at the hotel, and vowed to look into that later. She was nervous, when she brought up Kate. Chris shook his head.

“She’s always been… More ambitious than the rest of us. Some may even say ruthless. She was a very determined individual, ever since we were kids,” he admitted. He didn’t want to admit it, never would he think that Kate could be capable of such cruelty. He was adopted, so he never quite understood how the demi-god stuff worked. “I never thought…”

Allison looked distraught. “I’m so sorry, dad, I know this sounds crazy-”

“No, it’s not that,” Chris said, rubbing his tired eyes. “She’s always been a little rough around the edges. I’m sorry, Allison, I’m sorry that she’s doing this.”

“It’s not your fault, I just want to stop her from hurting anyone else.”

“Anything that will help,” Chris agreed, and started the car. He’d already seen Victoria’s parents, and they were looking forward to seeing Allison again, but with what he knew now… He’d been involved for all of five minutes and he was already getting a headache. They drove the rest of the way in silence as Allison gathered the courage to face her grandparents with this news.  They were greeted immediately.

“Allison!” her grandmother’s face split in a wide smile. She was shorter than Allison, with dyed red hair just like her mother’s had been. 

“Hi grandma,” she said as she returned the hug. 

“Grandpa,” as she hugged him as well. He was about the same height as Chris, which made Allison up to his chin. He was built heavily, and enclosed her in his arms. 

“This is my friend, Isaac,” she said, introducing the lanky blonde.

“Hello,” he greeted with a polite wave. Her grandma was having none of it. She pulled him into a big hug as well. 

“Call me Judith,” she insisted. 

“And Vern,” her grandfather added, with a hand extended to Isaac, who took it. 

“Come on in, I’m sure you must be tired from your flight,” she said.  Technically, they  _ did  _ fly. Allison smiled and went inside. Their house was the same as it had been. 

“Chris said you’d be heading on over,” her grandma started. “Said you needed help with something?”  Allison sighed softly. 

“I’m sorry to bother you like this, and I really wish we had more time and catch up first, but it’s a bit of an emergency.”

“Don’t worry, dear, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up when you’re less busy,” Judith said with a smile.

“Thanks, grandma.”

“Well, what’s this all about then?” Vern asked. 

Allison took a deep breath before launching into a shortened version of what she told her dad, with much less detail. That they were looking for a woman who was dangerous by the name of Katherine, and that she might’ve been snooping around. Allison also told them that Katherine knew them.

“We don’t know anyone by the name of Katherine or Kate,” her grandma said with a frown.

“What about Genevieve?” Isaac piped up, remembering what the sheriff had found.

“Oh, yes, there was a Genevieve,” her grandma said, nodding. “I can’t remember what she said her last name was though.”

“That’s okay! I think that’s the woman we’re looking for!”

"Well, she's the student we spoke to," her grandma said. "Came around a few times, mostly just to talk about our family and our time in France. We didn't know what to say, really. She asked about our ancestors, said it was for a research paper she was doing for her history degree of some sort. We told her what we knew."

“We thought it was boring stuff to be honest," her grandfather continued. “ But she came back in  a couple of weeks and asked us a few questions about relatives we barely even heard of."

"She knew an awful lot," her grandma said, fiddling with her necklace. "It really seemed like she had done her research."

"Which we thought might be normal. University these days, wasn't like it used to be..." 

Allison smiled at her grandparents. She felt terrible, because she had a feeling that they were being used. It was awful interrogating them, but she really needed answers.

"Do you remember what she asked about, and what you might've replied with?"

"It was mostly about our ancestors from before  Lozère . They lived right here in this area, and we haven't relocated much."   Allison noted the way her grandma played with her necklace, and recognized the motion as a nervous tick. 

"And what did you tell her?" she pressed. 

"Sweetheart... There's something you should know, about our family," her grandma said in a shaky voice. Whatever they were hiding, it must be huge. 

"And before we go on, just know that this is history. We want you to be comfortable with asking us questions, but we know this might sound a little... far-fetched," her grandpa added.

Allison had to bite her tongue to keep quiet. _ Gods, if only they knew.  _ Her grandma began. 

“Your mother… Before she met Chris, before she had you, she was a different person.” The tone her grandma used was too cautious for it to be a pleasant surprise, so Allison braced herself for the worst. What could her mother have been? A criminal? A murderer? 

“And before we tell you what, exactly, you should know this goes beyond your mother. She was part of something that’s been around for centuries.”

“She was part of some sort of group?” Allison asked hesitantly. Chris crossed his arms, listening intently. 

“You could call it that,” her grandma went on. “She was a Hunter.” 

“A hunter?” Allison made a face. That seemed pretty normal to her. 

“Of the supernatural.” Her grandparents shared a look before continuing. Allison’s face was frozen in a state of shock and confusion. 

“You see, the supernatural creatures are not all myth. Throughout history, we have witnessed things that couldn’t be explained by anything else. The first people to publicly call themselves hunters are great descendants of ours. It all started right here in this village, which was once called Gevaudan.” Her grandparents took turns filling her in. 

“A horrible beast plagued Gevaudan at the time, and King Louis XV figured it was time for serious measures to be taken. He called upon a man named   Jean Charles Marc Antoine Vaumesle d'Enneval, who claimed he was the best wolf hunter in all the land and his son.”

“When the Beast of Gevaudan was killed, most were content to let that be the end of it. But, the man responsible for killing the beast, named Jean Chastel, knew it wouldn’t be the last of the Beast. He was able to kill the beast with a blessed silver bullet. Oh, we thought it was so fitting that Victoria would end up with a man named Argent.”

Chris smiled sadly, still mourning for his late wife. Nothing would change his love for her, regardless of who she was before they met, what she did.  Vern continued. 

“He also knew that it couldn’t be a one-time chance. It was very likely that there were other horrors. So, he founded a  group of people, including Jean Charles and his son, Jean-François, that were dedicated to his cause.”

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent,” her grandmother said. “We hunt those who hunt us. Those were the words they lived by.” 

“From that day forth, they vowed to keep the people safe. Eventually, they recruited and spread across many countries, teaching and training. They had to be very quiet though, afraid people would think they were insane or out their group.”

“Each member swore an oath, and wrote their names down in a ledger to show their loyalty. Genevieve - Katherine - asked to see the ledger. Of course, we told her we didn’t have it. It was the first time I’d been taken aback by her questions. We knew this was not just some ol’ interview for a paper.” 

“Oh yes, we thought it was a very strange request. Anyhow, Genevieve seemed quite angry we didn’t have it, tried asking us where we last saw it, who could’ve gotten it. Goodness, you’d think her life depended on that old book.”

“Is there anything else in the ledger besides some names?” Isaac asked.

“No, not really. Some names have the date they joined or the date they passed, but not much else,” Judith replied.

“There is a second part, though,” Vern jumped in. “The ledger goes hand in hand with something they called the  _ Beastiary _ .” 

“Beastiary?” Allison said in confusion. Looking at her dad and Isaac, they were equally out of the loop.

“Oh call it what you will,” Judith said, dismissing the name. “It was just a silly word they made up for their research. Think of it as an encyclopedia. Every monster or supernatural thing they’d ever come across, compiled in one book.”

“We should try to get to it before Kate does,” Allison declared. She didn’t trust this knowledge to someone who might be using it for evil doing. 

“Lucky for you,” Judith said with a smile. “We’ve got it in the basement.” 

“You do?” Allison was elated. 

“Our daughter was the last in our bloodline to write her name down in the ledger. When she gave it up, there was nowhere else for it to go. We figured we would keep it, to remember our history,” Judith said.

“Wait, does that mean…” Isaac trailed off, eyes flickering between Judith and Vern. “Who was the Hunter?” he asked them.

Judith and Vern shared a look. “That's a story for another time,” Judith said slyly, effectively dodging Isaac’s question. They only let it go because she stood from the couch and headed for the basement door. “Come along.” 

They followed single file down the stairs, which led to a dimly lit room with old furniture and crates of papers/files. It was neatly stacked and organized, from the looks of it. An old computer desk sat in the corner, with a worn-down leather-bound book atop it. It was one of the thickest books Allison had ever seen. 

“This is the ledger, which traces the members of the Hunters back hundreds of years. Most of them belong to the same families, following in the footsteps of their relatives.” 

There were pages and pages of names, ink fading on the coloured paper. At the very front, the first name was barely legible, but Allison was sure it read  Jean Chastel. They leapt to the last page that had writing on it. The ink was much darker from being fresher. Allison traced a name with her fingertips, tears in her eyes.  _ Victoria Anne Chastel-Argent.  _ This was all so surreal, all the secrets her mother kept - about her, herself, the family. Allison missed her all the time, but now her heart ached because she now knew there was a part of her mom that she never got to know. 

“Look,” Isaac pointed a few lines up the page. 

_ Katherine Marie Argent. _

Chris peered over Allison’s shoulder before exhaling deeply. It was clear he had no idea. Allison’s grandparents looked on worriedly. 

“We thought… Well it was always a possibility, but we didn’t connect the two together. Argent was a common founder’s name in France,” Vern said. 

“What could this mean?” Chris asked.

"If Kate has knowledge about the supernatural, and she's on a raging quest, it can't be good," Allison said.

"This also pretty much points to Kate being the Kanima's master,"  Isaac added.

"I'm sorry, what?" Chris butted in.

"When we followed the trail to Mexico, there was a monster waiting for us,” Allison explained. “Lydia called it a Kanima.”

Vern lifted the heavy book to reveal another thick volume underneath. The front cover had a gryphon on the front with  _ Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent _ and its english translation inscribed on it.  Opening it, he revealed a large 3-ring bind with several pages ranging from snow white to a mocha colour, clearly indicating it was constantly being updated. 

Vern flipped among the pages until he hit those under the letter "K".

They all leaned in to look at what the Beastiary had to say about it. There was a rough sketch, showing the horrific details of the Kanima. Scribbled beside the claws were "paralyzing". Allison picked up a nearby pencil and drew an arrow from the scribble to the tail as well.

"Really?" Chris asked with concern. Allison nodded. 

"The one we fought also had wings," Isaac added.

"Dear Lord..." Vern muttered under his breath. 

"Well, now we have an answer, more or less,” Allison responded. “The good news is, we have a lot more information than we did a few hours ago. This will help us prepare.”

“You can take this with you, if you’d like,” Judith offered. “It might help.” She moved the ledger aside and handed the Beastiary to them. It was definitely heavy, and Allison would have to empty out most of her bag to carry it, but the knowledge would be worth it. 

“Thanks so much, grandma,” Allison said, cradling it in one arm. It looked so old and fragile, she’d have to extremely careful with it. 

“Anything to help dear,” Judith said. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you this sooner… It just seemed that Vicky was so happy with the life she had with you and Chris, we didn’t think there’d ever be any reason to bring it up. With her passing… Well, we didn’t know what she would’ve wanted you to know. This can be dangerous information, especially in the wrong hands.” Allison nodded.

“We know that now more than ever. Can you promise me something?” Her grandparents looked at her with worry.

“Of course, dear.”

“Please, keep yourselves safe… And if you ever see Kate, don’t engage. Call us immediately,” Allison urged. Judith gave her a sad smile. 

“Of course. I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, this is amazing,” Isaac piped up. “This is exactly what we needed.” 

“We best be on our way,” Chris said, breaking up the reunion. 

“We’ll be in touch soon,” Allison promised, hugging each of her grandparents. “Thank you, for everything.”

“We’ll see you soon, dear,” Judith said warmly.

The car ride back to main square was solemn. Allison saw that Chris seemed more haggard now, and wished she didn’t have to drag him into this. 

“It’s going to be alright, Ally,” Chris said calmly, as if reading her mind. She gave a weak smile and nodded, fingers running over the tome she carried in her arms. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, her thoughts far away.

“So where exactly are you headed now?” Chris asked, afraid of the answer. 

“Our friends are still in Mexico,” Isaac said. “We could call them, and try to meet up?”

“And how exactly, are you getting to Mexico?” Isaac and Allison looked at each other.

“Er - pegasi?” Allison looked sheepish. Chris sighed. He’d long accepted that his daughter led a life that was wild beyond his imagination. 

“Just - please be careful,” he said, for the hundredth time. 

“We will,” she promised. “You can stop here, our pegasi are just on the outskirts of town. Can I just make a quick call to them?”

Nervously, she dialed Isaac’s number. 

“Allison?” Lydia’s voice sounded. She sounded winded.

“Lydia? Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about us, did you find Kate?”

“We’re getting closer. We’re coming to you now, are you still in Mexico?”

“We flew east a little way of Kate’s hideaway, we’re heading back north to the border now.”

“Okay, we’ll catch up there,” Allison agreed, knowing it wasn’t good to prolong phone calls. She hung up, clutching the phone like it was a lifeline. Still, she knew Lydia would’ve told her if anyone was in immediate danger. Her friends were okay. For now.

“We’re heading back through the border, through Texas,” Allison confirmed to the group.

“Call me,” he pleaded as the children got out of the car. He hated the thought of leaving them. He had to head back to New Jersey, his business wasn’t going to run itself - but if it could, he would’ve hopped on a blasted pegasi and followed her anywhere. 

He watched the skies, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see them, but hoping someone was watching over them. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more! Constantly working on this badboy. Come say hi at [sterek--smut.tumblr.com](http://sterek--smut.tumblr.com) for more fics and fun! :) Would really love to hear from you guys, what you think, if you wanna do some fanart, etc. Love you guys!
> 
> Comments/feedback appreciated! <3


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